


Don't Wake Me Up

by georgette_the_frog



Series: You Weren't a Dream [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ...and maybe get a happy ending, Aged-Up Character(s), Dream Sex, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, adrienette - Freeform, and almost all of the types will show up, come watch them suffer, dreams are a great excuse for smut, for my own sanity, my god so many names for this pairing, these poor dweebs are desperate, we'll get there eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgette_the_frog/pseuds/georgette_the_frog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 dreams and a reality. Vivid dreams can break your heart or make you desperate. They can also help you put two and two together.</p><p>Their subconscious minds are desperately trying to help them figure things out, but these two are a bit oblivious. Aged-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can come visit me at georgette-the-frog on tumblr. I’m just getting started over there, so feel free to swing by or drop me a note. I love hearing reactions to my writing, and there's nothing better than the occasional "AAAAAHHHH THIS LINE KILLED ME SLKDJSKSDFLSW!" -type reaction. If you want me to see something but don't want to chat or tag, feel free to use the tag 'dwmu ml' cause that's what I'm using.

They kissed, standing on the rooftops of Paris, under a half-moon. Perhaps not the cloudless full moon he’d hoped for, for the last four years, and somewhere he’d lost the roses. The roses that should be there, perhaps abandoned on the rooftop in favor of other, more entertaining, romance.

He couldn’t exactly remember how they came to be there, but he wasn’t complaining.

Her hands were wrapped around the sides of his face, pulling him forward into the kiss. It was warm and welcoming, and she had been the one to make the move. Even with a fizz of electricity under his skin and her lips so warm, so demanding on his, he could hardly believe it. His hands had settled about her waist, feeling the lithe muscles beneath her suit and trying so hard not to grab and drag her forward.

She seemed to notice the twitch of his hands, breaking off the kiss to look up at him. “Something else you wanted?”

“Maybe someday. I’ll find a way to convince you.” The words were breathier than he would have liked, but it seemed as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. 

“Mmm, you don’t have to convince me. I know what I want.”

His breath hitched and the electric feeling under his skin crackled to life. “And what…ah…might that be?”

The small smirk on her red, red lips said everything. Ladybug was confident and self-assured. Ladybug knew what she wanted.

And apparently, she wanted him.

Where the rooftop jumped up to a higher roof, he found himself backed against a wall, absolutely itching to wrap his hands about her narrow waist and pull her to him. Somehow though, despite his distracted efforts, she had succeeded in pinning his own arms behind him.

Did she normally wear lipstick? Had he ever seen her wear lipstick? He couldn’t remember, but it was clear she was. Her lips were as red as her suit, vibrant and demanding and…

…affixing themselves to his neck, which she could only just reach. It was hard to keep a line of thought running, the way her fingers danced over his chest.

She toyed with the zipper hidden behind the bell clasp. The bell itself rang gently as she opened the clasp and slowly, too slowly, dragged the zipper a couple inches downward. Kisses followed, spotted down his neck and to his collarbones, lighting his skin on fire in her wake.

He wanted more than anything to turn the game around, to play his hand and take control, but he held back. The sensations that flooded his senses were near overwhelming, and although he wanted to spin them around and make her feel the same, it was near impossible. He could barely grasp at that line of thought. To turn her own tricks on her, to drag the breath from her lungs and make her want more, to make her bite her lips to keep from begging...

That thought dragged him back to what those lips were doing to his skin. _Hnng._

The noise that gathered in his throat and somehow escaped his lips was entirely involuntary, but she seemed to take it in stride. He about fell over at the small, devious smile that appeared as she realized how turned on he was. He could feel his face burning, and could only hope the mask hid the worst of it.

She ground her hips against his, pressing them firmly together. He found himself hating leather and whatever it was her suit was made of, internally cursing his gloves. He wanted nothing more than to touch her skin, to push things just a little bit further…

* * *

He woke hot, bothered, and alone. As he came around, he found himself facedown and realized he’d been grinding his hips against the bed in his sleep. He groaned as consciousness crashed in, shoving his face into his pillow to keep from waking Plagg. 

The curl of need in his stomach slowly faded, but failed to leave entirely, leaving behind an ache he couldn't shake off. He finally managed to talk himself into getting up, uncomfortable situation be damned. He glanced into the mirror as he walked into the bathroom and did a double take, flicking on the brighter light.

Nothing. There was nothing. For a moment, he could have sworn he’d seen a smudge of bright red lipstick.

But no, there was nothing. He turned the shower on and waited for it to warm up, his eyes glazing with exhaustion as he stared into space. _God, her lips were so soft…_

He thumped his head on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. This was unfair on so many levels. As if the strange schedule they’d followed for years wasn’t enough, now she was stealing his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Her dreams had grown more violent, of late. It wasn’t entirely unusual to find herself gasping into wakefulness, her pillow soaked with tears. She slept irregularly, and never seemed to make it through the night without waking. Tonight, though, was a good dream. 

She woke, still seeing him in her mind’s eye, still hearing his voice gasping her name like a prayer, “Marinette…”

Even when she woke, her face burning, she wasn’t willing to admit the curl of embarrassment she felt in her chest. The dream had been filthy, but it certainly wasn’t the first. That had been happening for years, although it had thankfully lessened when Alya and Nino started dating and they hung out more frequently. Marinette had resigned herself to her fate, eternally pining over a boy that would never see her as more than a friend, and carefully perfected her poker face around Adrien. They’d been close friends for over a year, and Alya hadn’t teased her about her earlier crush in ages. It seemed everyone had forgotten the mute mess she’d been around him when they first met.

Everyone but her, that is.

She stared up at the ceiling for several long minutes before resolving to go back to sleep. Sometimes, she would write her dreams down in an effort to remember them. But this, she didn’t think she could write it without the fear somehow someone would find it. It was an irrational fear, but something in her shied away at the prospect of putting those thoughts down on paper. With a sigh, she turned over, chasing the sweet dream back into the darkness of sleep.

* * *

The chase continued, even in her dream. Adrien was in trouble, nearly punched out by some akuma-strengthened moron. She didn’t stop to think, simply grabbed him, grateful for the additional super-strength granted by her suit. She ran, her only thought to get him as far as she could away from the fighting, to keep him safe. Tunnel-vision closed in and she ran, lungs burning to keep up.

“I think you can let me down now,” he finally said, laughing slightly. And his laugh…wasn’t Adrien’s laugh. Adrien’s laugh was quiet and breathy, sending shivers down her spine. It fit his entire demeanor, mild and unassuming.

Instead, the laugh that stopped her was sharp and smooth. She looked down at the person in her arms and found green lenses staring up at her. She squawked and let him down, thoroughly embarrassed. The sudden turnaround of the situation nearly knocked her over in surprise as she took a step back and her foot caught on a rough cobblestone. “What are _you_ …?”

He grabbed her shoulder and caught her, still laughing. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I was! I thought…” the awkwardness of the situation didn’t escape her and she fell silent.

“Ah. There’s someone else.” He hesitated, finally stepping back and letting go of her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My mistake.” 

She could feel herself nodding, struggling to meet his gaze. “Yeah.” _Of course. There was someone else. There had been someone else for ages. But why couldn’t she remember who?_

“I understand.” His mouth twisted humorlessly. “And when I say this, please understand that it’s not in bitterness: I hope he makes you happy. You’re an incredible person, and you deserve it.” His mouth quirked up in a real smile as he broke out of his unusually serious mood. “He’d better be good to you, I’m extremely purrrrtective of my partner.”

The words were spilling out before she could stop them. “Hah! He has no idea I’m even interested.”

Chat’s head tilted, hilariously cat-like, as he gave her an appraising look. “Why the loyalty to someone who ignores you?”

“He doesn’t exactly ignore me, just…” She felt her face flush. _Who was it again? Why couldn’t she remember his name? Green eyes, green eyes…_ Looking up at the green lenses of Chat’s mask didn’t help. “I don’t talk to him much.”

Chat’s mouth dropped incredulously. “You’re shy?”

She hid her face in her hand, desperately trying to hide her burning face. “Don’t judge me, he’s cute.”

“What, and I’m not?” he teased, flexing and pretending to model.

“That’s not what I said, you’re just…different!” She scrambled to regain her composure, something she found surprisingly easy despite his teasing.

Chat jokingly flexed again for good measure, showing off more muscle than she remembered, and leaned up against the wall leading to the ledge of the next roof. The roof? How had they wound up on the roof? Her partner laughed openly, happily. “Doesn’t sound like much com _paw_ tition to me!” He grinned at his own pun, and in that moment he was horribly, devastatingly attractive. 

And…hell. How long had he been this tall? Even though she’d been close with him for years, somehow it had escaped her. 

The realization hit her like a train. Suddenly, with the awful cat pun and his wide grin, it didn’t matter who the _someone else_ was. He was quiet and controlled and jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but so far from the vibrantly funny disaster that was Chat Noir. Chat was her closest friend, the one she’d shared her secret life with for the last four years.

And there was nothing she wanted more than to close that distance.

She found herself stepping into his personal space, reaching out to wrap a hand behind his collar. He stepped back, just out of range, eyes wary. “But you said…”

“I think I’m done pining over someone that isn’t interested. I think fate might have a different plan.”

“You know, after four years of flirting and getting nowhere, I could say the same thing.” His smile was wry. “You’ve turned me down time and time again.”

She leaned into him, hoping, praying this was the right thing. She felt she could have cut the tension in the air between them with a knife. “But are you going to turn me down?”

She could hear the catch of breath, almost a gasp. “Never.”

The first touch of lips was careful, questioning, as though both were afraid to betray the trust that had grown between them over the years. 

Although it was Marinette who had started the dream, it was Ladybug who finally took the plunge, surging forward insistently. He responded in kind, although she could tell he held back ever so slightly.

She pushed him back a bit. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“Mmm but can you blame me for wanting to take my time?” Even behind the vivid green of his goggles, his eyes were blown wide with lust. “I’ve waited awhile.”

“And you were the perfect gentleman about it.”

He sighed, melodramatic as ever. “That was lost opportunity for a pun, there.”

“Purrfect?”

“It sounds absolutely sinful coming from you.” His grin was wicked and he leaned forward again, catching her lips. When they finally broke apart again, she could hardly breathe. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck, just at the bottom of her hairline. His claws slipped through her ribbons, slicing them away like nothing. She barely bit back a gasp of surprise. Her hair, raven-black and lit with blue in the moonlight, slid silkily down to her shoulders and she found her mouth dry at the sensation of him gently running his fingers though her hair.

At the touch of his claws on her scalp her skin prickled and his eyes widened. With a flurry of apologies, he struggled to remove them, slipping them off one finger at a time. With a strange distanced sense that slowly flowed under her skin, Marinette watched his hands with fascination. He transferred his ring from one hand to the other with no apparent effect on his transformation, although one of the lights blinked out. 

She’d always thought the gloves were what made his hands look the way they did, but with them gone, it was apparent his hands were nearly as long as his claws made them look. The thought was swept away as they carded back through her hair, the pads of his fingers warm in her hair. Another beep of his ring, more urgent this time, rang behind her ears.

* * *

She opened her eyes to the memory of glass-green eyes. She hadn’t thought of her partner like that before, not in a dream she could remember. Her phone beeped, dragging her into full wakefulness. She clicked it and turned it on, only the sound. She could hardly keep a yawn from her voice. “What’s up?”

His voice on the other end was dry with humor. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright.”

“My a _paw_ logies, I wouldn’t drag you out of bed if it weren’t important.”

She groaned and climbed from bed. “You’re awful. Even in my dreams you have horrible cat puns.”

There was a long silence on the other end. “Dreaming about me, my lady?”

The jolt of adrenaline that slapped her in the face had a stronger waking impact than an entire pot of coffee. “What? No, not like that!”

The laugh from the other end of the line was teasing, skeptical. “Riiiiight.”

She covered magnificently. “The baguette akuma? A couple weeks ago? I was dreaming about that.”

“No harm done, really.” His voice shifted, back to business. “There’s an akuma tracking its way across Les Champs-Élysées and I’m going to need your help. See you soon?”

“I’ll be there!” she pushed excess cheerfulness into her voice, trying to keep from shrieking. She hung up and flung her phone on the bed, spinning around frantically to find her kwami. “Tikki! What am I going to do?!”

Tikki shrugged. “Act normal?”

“Aaaghh!” She threw on clothes and grabbed the kwami as she ran for her balcony. “You’re no help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...please forgive me for putting this precious cinnamon roll in these situations.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, it's the worst when you get it on and you think you're awake...and you're not.

He made it inside before the transformation wore off, closing his window and taking a couple dragging steps to his bed before sinking down, exhausted. Plagg, though, wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. “Oy. Food, if you don’t mind.”

“The tin on the desk.” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Mmmhmm.” Plagg was already fighting with the lid. After a couple minutes, he turned back to business. “Hey, you need to restock the…” He turned to find Adrien, sprawled across his bed and dead to the world.

* * *

He blearily came around to his phone ringing. A glance told him it was Ladybug, and he grumbled a bit as he answered. “Hello?”

“You still up to patrol?”

He glanced at his clock, the bright green numbers telling him it wasn’t even that late. “I was hoping to get a little sleep after today’s attack.”

“What, can’t keep up?” Her giggle sent shivers down his spine and something seemed off. “I’ll bribe you then, I’ve got pastries if the coast is clear.”

That was enough to get him out of bed. “Are they by any chance from the same place that made that coffee-cake pastry thing you brought a couple weeks ago?”

“One and the same, and I’m willing to share.” He accepted the offer, they set a meeting place, and Plagg hopped onto his shoulder as he climbed out the window.

* * *

It had started simply enough, a quiet evening ending in shared Kouign-amann on the rooftops. Their feet dangled off the edge of the roof into empty space as they looked down on the Seine glinting in the darkness. It had quickly escalated when she gave him a quick kiss, her lips still tasting of pastry sweetness.

A bit of mental gymnastics reviewed the events of the last few minutes as he ran his hands across her back. _Where was the zipper on her suit?_ After that first kiss, things blurred a bit. She’d stood up from the ledge, moving away teasingly, and he’d clambered to his feet, stretched, and followed. The next kiss was heated, and they only grew more insistent from there. It had been a matter of minutes before she’d gone for the zipper at his collar, tugging it down slightly so she could nip at his neck. 

Yet here he was, looking to turn the same trick on her, but there didn’t seem to be a zipper on her suit. Now that he bothered to notice, there weren’t any obvious seams at all. His fingers danced across the silky fabric and his hand trailed down her spine, feeling bone and lithe muscle, but no zipper. When he leaned back with a frown, trying to get a better look, her eyes were dangerously alight. 

She turned the game around on him in an instant, pushing up on her toes to kiss his neck. Her hand trailed down his chest, dragging the zipper along with it, finally stopping as his belt stopped it from going further. She went back to trace her action, trailing a single finger down his skin from throat, to chest, to the end of the open zipper. It was as though she lit his skin on fire as she did it, leaving him with a pool of heat in his belly. Her smirk had grown into an expression more akin to his own than hers. “It seems I have the advantage.”

“Alright, how do you even get that suit off?”

She giggled. “Magic.”

“No, but really…”

“I told you, it’s magic. Something Tikki does.” She turned her attention back to the hand she’d slipped into his suit. “You, on the other hand, seem to have much more practical means of removing yours.” And with that, she was peeling his suit away from his chest.

Rather than let her go, he caught her in a kiss, dragging the breath from her lungs and drawing her attention away. The distraction only lasted a few minutes before her hands caught the zippered edges of his catsuit again, trying to open it and dragging her hands across his skin.

The thought that had been on his lips finally bubbled out. “Wait.”

She stilled, as though startled that he had stopped her, and broke away worriedly. “Oh. Um…I’m sorry. Chat, it really isn’t…”

“No, it’s alright. It’s just,” he was already saying it, there was no stopping it now, “I want you to know who I am.”

She was taken aback, and fell silent for a minute. She finally frowned and said, “It’s dangerous.”

“I can’t do this, I can’t be this close to you and not…” he struggled for words, “not be me. I feel like I hide myself from the people closest to me, please don’t make me hide myself from you.”

She shook her head, a tiny motion that betrayed her discomfort. “I can’t tell you…”

He caught her hands, warm and small in his. “I’m not asking you who you are, but I don’t want to feel like I’m lying to you anymore.”

She seemed to relax as he made it clear he wasn’t asking her to return the favor. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Besides, how much more exposed could I really get?” He tapped a couple claw-tips on the gaping zipper. The joke was weak, but it was enough to relax the tension between them. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering just long enough to be unnerving, and she took a deep breath. “If that’s what you really want.”

“Yes.” He caught her hands and lifted them to his mask, taking a breath to steady his racing heart.

Her fingers slipped behind his mask and hesitated for a moment before pulling it away slowly. He opened his eyes and let his transformation wear off, blinking to clear his vision with the green lenses finally gone. Her eyes were surprised, her pupils blown wide with recognition. “Adrien?”

She knew him. She knew his name. She knew him as _himself_ , not as Chat.

And he didn’t know her.

The sudden need to know grabbed him like a vise. Even though she’d said she didn’t want him to know who she was, he very nearly reached for her mask. Or he might have, if she hadn’t caught his wrist and spun him about, pinning him to the wall of the next building over, chest first.

“Ah ah, you said you didn’t need to know.” Her grip wasn’t painful, but a slight twist made it clear she could do quite a bit of damage with ease. He put his face against the wall, trying to relax and convince her to let him go. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.” The textured brick of the wall was all-too apparent, with its light scrape against his cheek. The shirt he was wearing, a button-up, hung open, very much not buttoned up. The thin undershirt underneath did next to nothing to stop the scrape of the brick against his skin.

She sighed. “You going to behave, kitty?”

“Oh, now we’re getting into pet names? You really do like me.” She spun him around, dragging him around by his arm and hooking one foot behind his, upturning him. The world spun and he hit his mattress hard. When his vision cleared, a long moment passed where he found himself staring into the corners of a familiar ceiling.

_A dream? The rooftop…?_

He hardly had the chance to think before she was climbing over him, settling herself carefully on his hips. She leaned forward predatorily, propping herself on his chest with her elbows and fixing him with an assessing look. “I do like you. How much, I’m not entirely sure. But I do.” She danced her fingers across his chest, moving from bare skin to his undershirt. “Admittedly I think I’d like you more with less clothes.”

His breath caught. “Same.”

She slid her gloved hands along his sides, up under his shirt, and leaned forward to lay chest-to-chest with him as she pushed his shirt up. “You said you were alright not knowing who I am, which means the suit stays on.”

“And I am. Alright, that is.” His mind derailed for a moment as she started peppering kisses down his chest, slowly working lower. “I…I can't deny that I’d like to know.”

“Hmmm.” Her hum crackled across his stomach, and she continued her trail down to his beltline before pushing herself up and running her hands across his chest again, stopping at his bunched-up undershirt. “The shirts need to go. They're in the way.”

The abrupt change in topic threw him off, but she was slipping them off, running those smooth gloved hands over his shoulders. In the blur that followed, she talked him out of all but his boxers, making some kind of an excuse for each thing she stripped from him. 

Eventually, her touches earned a breathless laugh from him. “You know, you could just ask.”

“What would you like?” She looked at him, inquisitive and daring. 

He nearly choked in response. “That’s not…quite what I thought you would ask.”

“Mm, I still want an answer.” Her shrug was unconcerned and she sat back on his hips. It was impossible for her to miss how turned on he was, and in response she ground back against him. Nearly undressed, it was near impossible to keep his mind on task. The shift of her atop his hips was near unbearable, but this…this wasn’t what he wanted. That was a lie, he did want this, and the evidence of it was burning a hot pit of desire through his stomach. But he didn’t want it _like this_. He wanted an even playing field, he wanted her to want him the same way.

“I want to be close to you.” His hands caught her, arresting the slow grind of her hips, and she stilled. “But not…like this. I want to make _you_ feel like this.”

Her mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise before she smiled. She leaned forward, planting another kiss on his chest, just over his heart.

Once he’d started, though, it was difficult to stop. “I want to make the world just…stop for you. So you can forget everything else, just for a little bit.” The wry humor, the wicked gleam he’d seen before was gone, replaced by genuine tenderness. He could feel her relaxing in his grip, finally letting go. She leaned forward, chest-to-chest with him again, and tucked her face into the crook between his shoulder and his neck. He could hear her breaths, catching before finally calming to a regular level.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet and curious. “Really? You’re not just saying that to get in my pants?”

His heart felt like it would burst, it was so full of emotions he couldn’t put into words. Instead, he reached around her and cradled her to his chest. “You’re worth so much more than that to me.”

She lay there, wrapped perfectly in his arms, for several long minutes. When she finally drew back, she seemed conflicted. “I was going to push you, you know. But you’ve gone all sentimental on me, I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you if I did.” She sat up, inadvertently rocking back onto his hips.

The groan the motion pulled from his throat gave him away. In the blink of an eye, the grin was back on her face and she was putting his hands on her hips, encouraging him to shift her where he wanted. It took a few minutes to find a spot that somehow worked for her, despite her suit. Still, when he did, it drew a quiet moan from her. He rolled his hips again and her reaction was more than he hoped for. 

Again, and it wasn’t just a gasp. It was his name, dragged from her throat and reverberating through him, like the punch of touching a live wire. 

The world shattered.

* * *

He woke still hearing the echo of his name on her lips, disoriented and staring into the darkness of his ceiling yet again. The groan of exasperation that followed would have been enough to wake Plagg, but it seemed the kwami was already awake. “Another dream, huh?”

He could have thrown the pillow at him with frustration, but he did his best to compose himself and settled for climbing out of bed. The clock glared 5:30am, and judging by the uncomfortable damp patch in his pants, the waking world was determined to be as unpleasant as possible today. Right. A shower. A cold shower, quite honestly, would be the best thing for it.

He tried to push the nagging thought away, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember if it had been his own name on her lips, or Chat’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering doing 6 dreams and a reality, to give each of these dweebs 3 dreams. Thoughts? Let me know in the comments!  
> (Also, comments and critiques are always appreciated. I'm new to this 'publicly publishing the smut I write' thing.)
> 
> As ever, enjoy the trash as I scream over my inability to proofread.
> 
> -G


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more fluff than smut, but Marinette’s subconscious is desperately trying to put two and two together. Cut the girl a little slack for being a hopeless romantic.
> 
> It's really hard to write the disjointed way dreams work, where they sort of skip about all over the place.
> 
> And as someone who’s helped my grandma sew for years, I fully resent the people that are like ‘oh, you can just whip something up, right?’. That being said, Marinette’s dress goes through like 6 different iterations, because if you’ve got an eye for functional fashion, it’s reasonable that your dreams would accommodate for that. You want to do illustrations? Go for it, I’ve just given you plenty of vague descriptions of red party dresses. Comment and I’ll promote your pic!

It had started simply enough. Nino needed help on a short video project as he tried to put a portfolio for his application to film school. That would be simple enough, or it would have if he’d gone with the original plan.

The original plan, where he offered Marinette free reign in costuming, models to use for her own portfolio, and a small budget for materials if she’d agree to be in the movie. Listening to his description of the atmosphere he wanted was almost painful. “You can whip something up, right?”

So she’d found herself trying to put costumes together from the wardrobes people already had, generic color schemes for guards and minor characters, with the hero in a formal white jacket and the villain in a deep black. She’d sighed, lamenting the heavy-handedness on the symbolism, but they had been inspired by military dress. It would work. The princess in a red gown she hoped she could put together out of a set of vivid red silk curtains she’d come by on a chance.

It had been fine, nothing too concerning, until Nino told her what he wanted her to do.

“No.”

“You’d make a fantastic princess!”

“Get someone else! Like Chloe!”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not working with her if I don’t have to. And here, I don’t have to. This isn’t a class assignment, I get to do exactly what I want.” She’d grudgingly agreed, hoping when it was all said and done nobody would notice she’d repurposed an old pair of silk drapes.

It had all been fine, until she got the cast list.

She hadn’t even knocked, she’d simply burst into Alya’s house with murder on her mind. “What the hell kind of scheme is this?”

Alya looked at her, feigning innocence. “What?”

“Nino’s playing matchmaker again!”

She shrugged, a small smile on her face. “Well, no changing it now. We film in a week, remember? He’s got that deadline to meet.”

* * *

Fittings were hell. She lost count of the number of times she stabbed herself in the fingers with pins. Distraction was a terrible thing.

* * *

Long story short, that was how Marinette found herself standing on a balcony, watching as Adrien and one of his teammates squared off for a duel. Sure, they said they knew what they were doing, but they didn’t have any safety equipment on and her stomach twisted with the fear that someone would actually get hurt.

Also, she was a bit terrified that after they filmed the duel and switched scenes, the fake blood packet would splatter something that wasn’t the replaceable chest panel Nino had talked her into making for the shoot. Sure, there were three of them, but there was only one jacket. More than anything else, the fear that she would make a mistake sat in her stomach, slowly eroding away her confidence.

Adrien and his teammate knew what they were doing though, and she might have enjoyed watching them if she hadn’t been so nervous about her own role. The fight scene took about two hours, and suddenly she was being hustled into position on the balcony. 

Nino looked as though he would burst out laughing at any moment. “Alright, you’ve got your part, right Marinette?” He nodded to the stage knife in her hand.

Butterflies bloomed in her stomach and she nodded worriedly. Nino had it in for her, she’d have sworn it. Why did she have to be the one to ‘stab’ him? Like alright, it added to the drama of the narrative to have the princess turn on the hero but really…

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” she said, steadier than she felt.

It did not go well.

She fell into bed that night with visions of exploding blood packets and the disaster that had been made of the red dress. Sure, it was a reworked pair of curtains, but the entire incident still stung.

* * *

She’d taken stock of her surroundings, unsure when and how she’d wound up here. ‘Here’ was a massive ballroom, with glossy floors and high ceilings. There was a crowd, other people in dresses and suits and masks. He’d taken her hand and escorted her toward the other side of the room, to plenty of interested stares. She was thankful for the mask on her face as a passing server had slipped a glass of deep red wine into her hand. She’d snuck another glance at him, taking in the white jacket and the pale green accents that seemed to match his eyes.

A cursory glance down at herself revealed her dress was deep red, the same color as the curtains.

_Curtains?_

No, the dress she thought she’d been wearing was long, but this was so much more than that now. The skirt was long and draped wonderfully about her legs, loose and moderately full before tightening at her natural waist. It was the color of the wine in her hand, swirling like blood in the glass. As she looked down at it, it swirled, scintillating like a galaxy. She took a sip and found it strangely sweet. 

Somewhere along the way, the glass had been taken from her hand and she’d been pulled along in Adrien’s wake. And here they were, in the middle of the floor doing some sort of dance she didn’t know. It felt unnatural and stiff, although most of the motions came to her.

“It really is lovely to meet you, Ladybug. Officially, at least.”

Adrien’s mask was flipped back on top of his head and he looked at her with earnest eyes. She could feel herself blushing as they danced.

All in all, it was a disaster. Everything felt stiff and detached, and the moment he gave her an opportunity for a break, she snagged another glass of wine from a tray. He tried to strike up a conversation for a time, but the words were all wrong. Everything felt forced, somehow wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. What was it? She ducked away, hiding herself near a table of hors d'oeuvres and drinks to watch the room.

The dancers, the room, the dresses, the food: everything was beautiful, almost too beautiful. She couldn’t get rid of the feeling, like a snagged nail or a shirt on inside out. Two glasses of wine later, it still felt wrong, but at least she was more relaxed about it. 

“Is this really necessary to enjoy yourself?” The third glass was unexpectedly plucked from her fingers, and she spun to find the perpetrator. Her brain registered black on black on black, black tux and black mask. The shock of blond hair and vivid green glass lenses gave her pause, and recognition kicked in.

“Chat!” He replaced the glass with his own hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying.” She glared up at him defiantly.

“You’re well on your way to it.”

“I’m having a good time with the people here!”

“Oh? Is that why you’re hiding over here?” Chat’s head tilted slightly. “Do they know who you are behind the mask?”

She started to answer but cut off, realizing they liked her because with the mask, she was Ladybug. Everyone loved Ladybug, she was smart and brave and amazing. But Marinette? A crushing wave of bitterness swelled in her chest. “No. But if that’s your argument, you don’t even know who I am.”

Her distress must have shown clearly and Chat’s smug smile vanished. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant. They don’t really see past Ladybug, but that’s alright. I do! I’ve seen you for yourself for a long time.”

She took her glass back from him primly, taking a large swig of the wine. “Well. If we’re going to drift around here with a bunch of people who don’t actually care about me, I might as well get a bit closer to drunk.”

“That’s not what I meant!” He attempted to backpedal, but her mind was made up.

She threw back the rest of the glass, no longer transfixed by the glittery swirl of galaxies in the drink. With any luck, the faint buzz under her skin would get stronger. She looked at Chat, nerves falling away as she held out her hand. “Dance with me?”

“Are you using me to prove a point? To show them you don’t need them or something?” His suspicion was plain.

“…yes.”

A shit eating grin split his face. “Then I’m yours to command, my Lady. You sound like you want to get into my kind of trouble.”

Dancing with Chat was like nothing like dancing with Adrien. Where she’d been nervous before, there was no reason for it now. If she tripped, who cared? There was a level of trust between them, and even as the most recent glass of wine hummed under her skin, she trusted him to catch her if she fell. She might ruin her dress if she fell entirely, but she’d done worse around Chat before.

_Oh god, the dress._

She glanced down. It was the furthest thing from curtains, a full, beautiful ball gown in a deep blood red. _Why had she thought it was made from curtains again?_

The flurry of color around them was like a kaleidoscope, blurry and indistinct. They danced like they fought, in sync to a bizarre degree. Suddenly, this event, which had been nerve-wracking and painful, was fun. He lifted her like she weighed nothing and a surprised laugh burst from her.

When they were tired of dancing, they stepped aside. She snagged another glass of wine from a server, and they talked.

Suddenly, she wasn’t drinking to spite the people that couldn’t recognize her for who she really was. She and Chat stood aside, watching the people she knew dance about the room and talk awkwardly. They people-watched, and her tongue loosened as she described the people she knew to him.

As she pointed people out, Chat made his comments, cracking jokes and making awful puns. She nearly squeaked with excitement when she picked Nico and Alya out of the crowd and pointed them out to Chat. He was kind and complementary to them, although he ducked away as Alya spotted her and made a beeline for her.

A complement for Alya’s dress was on the tip of her tongue. Alya beat her to it. “Ladybug!” 

Of course. Nobody recognized her like this. Very suddenly she felt alone in a room full of people and wondered where Chat had disappeared to. Alya claimed her attention, asking her questions that didn’t quite register, they were simply background noise in the rush of color…

Chat reappeared, as if from nowhere, with a fresh glass of wine in his hand. For a moment, her gaze stilled on his gloved hands, which were much more appealing without the claws.

Alya was still talking, and as she turned back, Marinette realized she’d lost the thread of the conversation. In a wild effort to find her footing, she blurted, “I like your dress!”

“My best friend made it! She’s supposed to be here, but I don’t know quite what…” Alya looked past her. “Oh!”

Nino had come up behind them. “Sorry to interrupt, but could I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

She turned to find herself face-to-face with Adrien again. She hesitated, then flashed a bright smile. “Oh, we’ve already met.” 

“Hopefully you’re enjoying yourself.” He looked between her and Chat, betrayal in his eyes. Starry-eyed as she was, she could sense the impending disaster. Was that…jealousy? She very nearly laughed at the idea. He glanced at her empty hands and tried to recover. “Oh, did you finish your drink? Here, let me get you another…”

Adrien turned away to flag down a server and Chat cleared his throat, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. “A moment? You’re the host, yes?” Chat’s manners were disaffected, but his body language was furious.

Adrien turned back, looking vaguely puzzled. “Why?”

She saw it coming. The two of them faced off, black and white jackets in counterpoint. Their hair was the same golden blond, although Chat’s was rather less neat. In a fight, of course Chat would win, but Adrien wasn’t the pushover Chat seemed to think he was. That said, she knew what he was going to do before he moved, but she was paralyzed.

Chat flung the still-full glass of wine at him. 

“You're an idiot.”

Adrien stood there, splattered with wine and sputtering. It bled across his white jacket. 

She gasped in shock. Oh no. _Oh no oh no oh no._ She grabbed his arm and hissed, “What are you doing?!”

“Hah! You don’t know her anyway.” He looked at Adrien, condescending. “We’ll be leaving, thank you for the purrfectly lovely evening.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the chaos that sprang into being. They ran through hallways and stairwells, back stairs and an attic. She followed in his wake, gasping as he shoved a door open to the outside and cool air struck. Clarity flooded her senses and the haze of the wine fell away.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Chat chuckled when he finally caught his breath.

“Why did you do that?!”

“He doesn’t know you without the mask, right?”

“No, but…”

“If he doesn’t like you for who you really are, he doesn’t deserve you.” Chat’s words were full of conviction, and she stared at him, unsure how to feel. She sat down, her dress billowing around her.

“Fine. Alright.” She tried to take a breath and her laces were too tight, and without the vague haze of drink the discomfort was more acute. For a minute she hesitated, but the discomfort was more annoying than the prospect of asking for help. “Mind loosening my laces?”

His eyebrows rose over the top of his mask.

“Not like that, you ass. I’d like to breathe.”

“Ass? Me? I’m insulted. I ought to defend my honor to you.” He made a signal he’d seen somewhere before, a slight tap above his heart with his left hand, as though wounded.

“Really though, help a girl out.” He smiled and nodded, as though everything about the situation were normal. As he carefully picked the laces loose, she took a mercifully large breath and sighed. “That was a disaster.”

“A cat-astrophy?” 

She groaned at the pun and followed it with a breathy sigh as his lips affixed themselves to the back of her neck. After a minute, he stopped to defend himself, helping her to her feet. “My puns really aren’t that bad.”

As she stood, she found that the front of the dress was shorter than she remembered, flared out and ending above her knees. “They’re awful. You’re awful.”

“…pawful?” He leaned in and caught her about the waist, smoothing his hands around her as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Cut it out or I’m not letting you get grabby.”

“Grabby?” He snorted. “That’s twice now you’ve wounded me, my dear.”

“You could always stop with the terrible jokes?”

His smile grew devious and he pushed her gently back, pinning her to the wall and planting a leg between hers. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

With the cool air, she was reminded that she wasn’t wearing much under the dress. For that matter, she had no idea _what_ she had under the dress. He was running his fingers higher and higher up her thighs, and she couldn’t remember what underwear she had on. _Is this what I want?_

He somehow sensed her unease and backed off. “You alright?”

“I…uh…I’m not sure...”

His eyes widened in surprise and his hands were gone from her legs entirely. “I’m not trying to push you, I don’t want to…”

She put a hand to his lips to hush him. “Give me a second to figure out how to say this properly.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how far I’m ready to go with this. I’m not really sure where the line is, but I think we’d be better off deciding that before we continue with…whatever this is.”

His eyes were wide. “Of course.”

“And I’m not really sure where you stand on all of this, or what we are, or anything. And I think we need to sit down and talk about it.”

“We?” his expression, if anything, was star-struck.

She took a deep breath. “I think…I think ‘we’ is an important distinction to make. And you’ve expressed interest for years, so if you still are…”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted.

It was so abrupt it gave her pause, but she nodded.

He leaned in, wrapping his hands behind her head, and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before. She saw sparks behind her eyelids and her hands wrapped about his waist, pulling him flush with her. It lasted for ever and not nearly long enough. They finally broke apart and he looked at her like a man in a desert might look at a raincloud.

She took a deep breath, knowing that if she didn’t lay down rules from the start she was going to regret it. It struck her that she’d likely go to bed with him in a heartbeat, and regret how abrupt the decision was in the morning. She wouldn’t regret him, part of her was certain about that, but something in her said that if they were going to take this step, she wanted it on her terms.

She cleared her throat. “Alright, so about that line…”

* * *

That was a dream she regretted not remembering all of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Bonus points if you can spot all the little things fencers do in Chat’s posture. I’m not a sabreist, but I think I speak for a lot of fencers when I say we have a particular set of inadvertent responses. I may have squeaked with joy when I realized he fenced, and then whined because, you know, sabre. *sigh*
> 
> NOTE 2: …here’s what the wine looks like. Because dream booze had damn well better look awesome. http://www.viniq.com/liqueur-flavors/ruby.php
> 
> NOTE 3: The drinking age in France is 18. Marinette’s alright, I swear. EDIT: I stand corrected, it's 16.
> 
> Note 4: Do I think, given the opportunity, that Adrien would throw a drink at the image of the perfect son his father has carefully cultivated? Yes, yes I do. And so does Marinette’s subconscious.
> 
> And now I’ll shut up. Enjoy the trash, guys.
> 
> -G


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit out of hand. Like ~3400 words out of hand. My bad.
> 
> Reminder: communication is hella freaking important. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy, and oftentimes it’s awkward. If you’re not mature enough to talk to someone about boundaries, ya shouldn’t be gettin’ freaky with ‘em.
> 
> Apologies in advance for the seeming up-and-down nature of an early physical relationship. It happens. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy!

He couldn’t remember what akuma they’d been fighting, or how it had gone wrong. The first thing he could remember clearly was hovering about Ladybug, who sat carefully in his desk chair, holding her shoulder gingerly as she tried not to get blood on anything. 

Why had he brought her back here to patch her up? There didn’t seem to be any logical reason, although she looked pretty banged up. He bandaged up the back of her shoulder, where the gash was. After swabbing it and cleaning up the blood with alcohol, he found his touch accidentally lingering a bit too long at the sight of her skin through the rent in the suit.

“Hey hey hey, keep your paws off me unless you’re going to follow through with that.” Her voice was teasing and he took it as an invitation to tease back.

“And what if I were?”

What he hadn’t expected was to hear the way her breath hitched. “I’m…not sure.” The silence stretched a beat too long and he returned to bandaging her shoulder.

When he’d finished, he took a look at his handiwork and nodded. “Should be fine. Although your suit’s pretty torn up, that’ll take some repairing.” He jokingly put a finger through a hole in his own suit, grateful that the suit had blocked most of the damage. His skin was barely singed.

She giggled. “I could probably fix it, but you remember I can use my miraculous to fix things, right? Not people, of course, but the suit shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Right! How convenient.” He pulled his gloves back on and stood up with a grin. “Well then, welcome to my humble abode, my Lady. Never thought you’d see it like this, but what better time?”

She took a cursory look around, her eyes lighting on each of his trophies and posters in turn. “Oh, you fence? There’s a club at my school, they’re not bad.”

He smiled widely. “I’ve probably fenced them, then!”

She tossed her yoyo about absentmindedly as she looked up at the posters more closely and his mind decided it was an appropriate moment to remember two weeks prior, when he’d fallen off a ledge and she’d caught him with a well-timed throw and rather a lot of luck.

She glanced over at the trophies, seemingly blind to the effect she was having. “So you’re pretty good, huh?”

“I wish I had more time to practice, but I’m not bad. Too much on my plate with the whole ‘saving Paris’ thing, you know?”

She laughed a bit at that. “How do you have time to breathe?”

“Well, you’ve seen yourself that I have a tendency to get a bit tied up with things,” he joked, leaning one hand high against the post of his bed. She glanced at him and her eyes flickered. The yoyo in her hand flicked up and down again, and he almost laughed at his own joke.

Or he would have, if she hadn’t flicked the yoyo out, impossibly fast. She wound it around his hand and the bedpost where it was over his head. His mind had only just begun to register the action when she caught it on the rebound and hopped up onto the bed, catching his other hand with the trailing cord and dragging it up to be pinned with the first.

“You were saying?”

“Ah…” his mind had gone blank, but for the heat that seemed to have flared along his skin. He looked up and back at her as she did something to secure his second hand and a realization jolted through him. He had a thing for control. Either being in control or out of control, it didn’t seem to matter, but finding himself tied up was unbelievably hot. His face burned with embarrassment with the revelation. 

The inadvertent whine that came from the back of his throat was downright mortifying. She looked alarmed and stopped immediately, stepping toward him with a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

“Umm…” He thought about the question. “Yes and no. Depends on what you mean.”

She looked surprised. “Oh no. Oh no, we should have talked about this first, I’m sorry.” She started to untie his hands and he waved her away with a small hand motion, all he could manage with them pinioned as they were.

“Nah, I’m alright. Leave it, we can talk now, it’s alright. It wasn’t so much wrong as…” he struggled for words, then sighed and admitted, “I’m not actually sure what…what we’re doing.”

“Neither am I.” She nodded a bit as she sat down, cross-legged on the bed next to him. “But you’re the one that’s a bit, uh, what was the phrase you used?”

“Tied up with things.” His throat seemed to close around the words and his mouth was dry.

“Right. So I think it’s up to you, what you’re alright with.” Everything about the situation was bizarre, and he recognized it. Ladybug was relaxing on his bed, they were having a casual conversation about consent, and he was tied to his own bedpost. Yet he had zero desire to change the way things were playing out, he only wanted to make sure nobody got hurt. More specifically, he wanted to make sure she didn’t get hurt.

Some switch on his self-preservation instincts had been flipped off. He trusted her with his life, possibly more than he trusted himself.

“So, thoughts?” She looked at him expectantly.

“I’d say we really shouldn’t do anything stupid.” It was the first thing that came to mind. 

“And your definition of ‘anything stupid’ is…?”

“I mean…we’re 18.” She kept looking at him and his face started to burn, but he felt like he had to keep going. “Uh, I’m nowhere near ready for kids.”

Her breath whooshed out and she took a relieved breath. “Good to know we’re on the same page there. So if, and this is a big if, we eventually get there, we’re using protection. And as far as I’m concerned, we’re not there yet.”

“You seem really comfortable talking about this.”

She snorted. “Uh, no. False confidence. I’m as clueless as you, but I don’t want to have any regrets. I like you too much for that.”

“What, really?”

She climbed up, seemingly surprised. “You think we’re having this conversation because I…don’t like you that much?” His heart seemed to skip a beat. “You’re tied up and we’re having what could only be called a fairly open discussion about what's going on here. I’m a bit invested.”

Emotions welled up in his chest and he smiled. “I’d hug you if I could but, you know,” he shot a wry glance at his hands. To his surprise, she came in for a hug anyway. She only came up to his chin, meaning she could put her head on his chest, and despite the position he was in, they seemed to fit together perfectly.

It took a bit of an effort to lean forward and plant a kiss on the top of her head. 

“So, want me to let you down? That’s probably a bit awkward.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.”

She didn’t break free, but she turned her face up to him from where she’d put her cheek on his chest, as if listening to his heart. She looked up at him and gave him a warm smile and it’s a good thing her ear wasn’t pressed against his chest anymore because his heart felt like it had stopped. The world stilled and he would have given anything to stay there like that forever.

And as he stood there, pinned as he was but with her arms wrapped around him, it hit him that this was _Ladybug_ and the years of flirting hadn’t fallen on deaf ears and this was utterly _impossible_.

They’d barely been more than a boy and girl when all of this had started but she’d grown into the most incredible woman he knew. Some days he felt like he couldn’t keep up, that he was stuck as an awkward gangly teenager and would never be good enough.

But there she was looking up at him like he was the only person in the world.

In that moment, he felt that whatever this was, it couldn’t last. There was no way it could last. She was too good for him, and she didn’t want him to know who she really was. He’d respected that, but it meant he knew next to nothing about her. She had her own life, one he wasn’t a part of. She had a family and friends and she was perfect. She probably went to school and hung out with them.

She probably went on dates with other people.

The inevitability of it happening was almost certain. Someday she would meet the right person. And then what? She would leave. He couldn’t help but stiffen reflexively at the thought of her with someone else.

“What’s…are you alright?” She looked concerned, and loosened her hold as she caught sight of his face. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to…” 

At the loss of contact, fear clenched in his stomach, mixing uncomfortably with all the other emotions that seemed to be welling up in his chest. “No, I just,” he couldn’t speak as she stepped away, her expression guilt-stricken. Anxiety gripped him like a vise, squeezing the words from him, “please don’t leave me.”

It was a bit hard to tell with the mask, but she looked confused. “Wait, what? Chat, why would I…”

“Please don’t leave me here alone.” Had he been thinking straight, he would have been shocked at the cracking desperation in his own voice. As it was, he had eyes and ears for her and everything else was a blur.

Her eyes widened and the depth of expression, just in her eyes, was terrifying. She stepped back to him, taking his face gently but firmly in her hands, and made him look at her. “I want you to listen to me, carefully.” If he fell into those pools, he’d drown in them. Pools of blue surrounded by even darker blue rings, so deep and dark they were almost black. “I would never do that to you.”

He could feel the threat of tears burning behind his eyes and he slumped at the fresh emotional hell his heart was unleashing on him. He’d have crumpled to the floor if it weren’t for the knots. 

Alarm was clear on her face. “Just a sec, let me…” the knotted yoyo about his wrists loosened and he stumbled forward, only for her to catch him and pull him into a hug. He fell into it, wrapping his arms around her with relief. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t understand. I was afraid I overstepped some sort of line.”

“Not at all,” he sighed the words into her neck, the fear and anxiety in his chest lessening. “I told you, I trust you.”

“I’m…I’m a bit confused, then.” She pulled him over to the bed and sort of flopped him sideways. 

He couldn’t keep a huge grin from taking over his face. “I’m only a bit emotional because the woman I’ve been in love with for the last four years, just told me she likes me too. No big deal, you know, just your usual everyday…”

She silenced him with a kiss. His heart, moments ago so weighed down with worry he felt he might crumple with the weight of it, felt like it would burst from his chest and fly away. He pulled her on top of him, as much to keep it in his chest as to hold her closer. She was mostly lean muscle, but she seemed to melt into him as she mouthed at his neck. Wrapped up with her like that, the heat pooled in his stomach and he found himself getting more and more turned on.

His state didn’t escape her and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You could always ask, you know.”

“Please…”

“Oh come on, I want to hear you say my name.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Ladybug. Please.”

“My real name.” Her laugh was low and mischievous.

“That’s not fair. I don’t know it!”

“Well then.” He instinctively reached out for her mask and she caught his wrist. Her smirk should have been illegal. “Figure it out the hard way.”

He groaned. “I’m pretty sure I’m already doing things the hard way.”

“Ooh, very punny.” Her smile split into a full-blown grin, one to equal any of Chat’s. “Figure it out.”

“Your identity though…I’m bad luck, you know. I lose the people I’m close to.” Crushing disappointment hit him. 

The mischief in her expression melted into empathy. “I’m so sorry…”

“I’m so afraid of losing you.”

She leaned forward, gently placing a kiss on his forehead. “You won’t. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but even if you did, the world wouldn’t be over. I could die tomorrow, and if I died keeping people safe, I don’t think it would be too bad of a way to go.” There was a strange, distant look in her eyes, just for a moment before she looked back to him. “Oh, come on. I’m sure you didn’t want to get into a philosophical argument about mortality. Not right now.”

He sighed. “Sorry to kill the mood.”

“You didn’t kill the mood. I like knowing what’s going on inside your head.”

“Most of the time, it’s rubbish,” he admitted.

“Oh, I doubt that.” She flicked the bell at his collar with a smile, jangling the zipper as well. “Like right now. What’s going through your head right now?” She paused and held up a finger. “On the condition that it has nothing to do with an existential crisis.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “You said you can just use your miraculous to fix things, right?”

She frowned. “What kind of things are you talking about?

“If I remember correctly, your suit is very much lacking zippers.”

She sat up, straddled across his lap and laughing a bit. “What are you planning to do, cut it off of me?”

He reached up to touch her face, running his hand down to her neck. He flicked out his claws and caught her collar “If you’re alright with that?”

Her gasp of surprise was another flare of heat under his skin, and she nodded approval with eyes blown wide. A claw, carefully slipped under her collar and trailed down to her belt, parted the fabric with ease. He felt a certain internal satisfaction. _Screw zippers. who needs them?_

He wasn’t sure exactly what he expected to find under her suit, but it certainly wasn’t some sort of weird protective material, like Kevlar, bonded to her skin in much the same way their masks were when they didn’t want them to come off. She looked down at him, taking his expression in. Abruptly, a giggle bubbled out of her at the absurdity of it all. “What, you don’t have extra layers for protection under your suit?”

“You know, I’m starting to think I should. Just to make things a bit more difficult for you.” He flopped back into the pillows. “Aghh, I give up.”

She looked down at him fondly, her shoulders relaxed. “You know, I’m pretty sure it’ll slip off if I actually try to take it off.”

“Right, like it’d come off with your suit over the top.” He couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice.

She cleared her throat. “Well, that would have to go.” She started pulling the suit back, over her shoulders and down her arms. He sat up, pushing her back a bit more than intended and caught the edges, helping her peel it back and finding that the under layer only covered her torso, protecting vital organs.

The change was astonishing. Where he was accustomed to red and spots was flesh and bone and somehow so much more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her, her neck and arms bare. He reached forward to mouth at so much inviting skin, leaning to catch her about the waist, ever careful of his claws.

She gasped as the extra layer seemingly _melted_ at his touch and his mind struggled to keep up. He pulled his hands away and sat back a bit, startled. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

“Hmm. At least it’s convenient.” Once the surprise was gone, her acceptance was simple and straightforward, and his skin thrummed at the very thought of it. Even though the gloves her skin practically radiated warmth. Her bra was pink and seemed to fit her bubbly personality and he wanted it _gone_.

As he reached for it, she leaned away, laughing. “Ooh, don’t you dare cut my bra. The claws are going to have to go.”

He practically ripped his gloves off, tossing them aside and reaching for her again. 

As he reached behind her to unclasp it, a pang of fear caught him, fear of hurting her. “Things have changed a bit, how far are you willing to take this…?”

“We both agreed we’re not ready to actually have sex, I’d say we both just listen to each other and go with it? Like no means no and yes means yes and we both swear to say something if there’s an issue?” He found himself nodding agreement and breathing ‘yes’ into her skin. 

After a moment he looked at her, “Can I…?”

“Please do!” her smile was encouraging and sweet and they were both a bit breathless as he fumbled with it for a minute. And then…

…skin. There was so much skin, and the sight of her seemed to drag him in. It was like there weren’t any more secrets between them, she wasn’t just Ladybug. Ladybug was untouchable and perfect, but right now she was here and vulnerable and _human_ and there was so much skin.

He wanted to taste every inch of it, to feel the flutter of her pulse under his tongue. He wanted to crawl under her skin and understand her, to know everything about her. He wanted everything, and for the first time it seemed possible. He wanted to know what was happening behind the eyes that fluttered closed as he kissed a trail down her chest, he wanted to know the feel of his skin on hers, both inside and out. 

He needed to know who she was, who the woman behind the mask really was.

The sound of a car door slamming loudly from outside his window interrupted his train of thought and he glanced over.

* * *

Waking was cold, quiet, and quite frankly miserable. Everything about it, from the dampness on his cheeks to the empty chill of his sheets, was lonely and painful. All of that paled in comparison to the aggravation of the raging boner he was sporting.

He shoved his face into his pillow and let out a quiet, “What the fuuuuuuck.” 

Plagg was curled up on his desk in a scarf, thankfully not the blue cashmere one. He’d never be able to get the smell of cheese out of it, and it was his favorite. A glance told him Plagg was asleep, and he fell back into his pillows until the rush overtook him. He stifled a groan, unwilling to admit to Plagg that this was out of control.

Once he’d cleaned up, he fell back into bed, into thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

In the morning, he remembered everything with painful clarity, although it started to fade as he went about getting ready for school. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, and he thanked his lucky stars Plagg had been asleep. 

It was only later that afternoon, as he worked on homework with Plagg atop his desk, that the issue cropped up. “So, about those dreams last night…how were they?”

Adrien shot him a glare. “Frustrating. As per usual these days.”

The kwami’s amusement didn’t fade. “Yeah, I figured.”

“What do you mean, ‘you figured’?”

“Well, you woke up in a bit of a state.” Plagg smirked, unforgiving in his dry sense of humor. “And you were saying ‘Ladybug’ over and over in your sleep. And, well…you could at least take care of things out of my earshot, you know?”

For a moment, Adrien gaped at the kwami in horror, embarrassment flushing his face. Then he deflated entirely and slumped at the desk, burying his head in his arms. “I give up.”

“Ah…also…you might want to get that in control next time you’re out and about as Chat Noir. Black leather isn’t exactly forgiving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude wears a leather(ish) catsuit. I’m willing to bet he’s got at least a couple kinks. DON’T KILL ME. I’m sorry, I can only give him so much fluff before he gets worked up D:
> 
> Yes, I know school sports aren’t really a thing in France. Just pretend the fencing club rents out the school gym or something, idk.
> 
> Also a reminder that any puns coming from her are supplied by his brain. Because he’s that person. You know the one. The asshole that can’t turn down a pun, no matter how serious the situation. Yeah, that person.
> 
> Also also, do yourself a favor and go read Dark Sonnet by Neil Gaiman.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: 'I'm tired. Also, you're not going to learn anything the same day as the final.'  
> G: 'Right. We should go take a nap.'  
> Brain: "...or you could spend your time writing ~5000 words of M-rated fanfic.'  
> G: '...shit, you're right.'
> 
> It's the week from hell! I've been studying altogether too much, my first final was today. It's unbelievable how much I get done when I have other deadlines. Apologies in advance for the lack of editing, I'll come back to clean this chapter up when I'm not slowly dying of a caffeine overdose.
> 
> And here I thought the last chapter got out of hand.
> 
> -G

They’d landed on her rooftop, slipping in through the trapdoor with ease. Part of her said this was stupid, bringing him back here was a horrible idea.

The other part of her didn’t care.

She let go of him and slipped down the ladder, into her room. He followed, glancing around as she pulled the curtains, throwing the room into pitch darkness. She turned back to where he had last been, internally cursing the dark. “If this is happening, you first.”

“What?”

She crossed her arms, blind in the darkness but fully acknowledging that he could see her. “The night vision goggles?”

“Oh thaaaat. Right.” The sheepishness was clear, even in his voice. There was a flash of weird greenish light and brief bickering.

“Who are you talking to?”

Chat suddenly sounded a lot less confident. “Uh, right. This is my kwami.”

“Lovely to finally meet the newest Ladybug in person.” The voice was strangely formal, unfamiliar. 

She sighed and let her own transformation go. Tikki landed on her shoulder. “What are you doing? I mean, I know what you’re doing, but are you sure this is a good decision?”

“We can’t see each other, it’ll be fine.”

“Hmm. I guess I’ll take our guest downstairs and find some food. You two can have some privacy.” 

“Nice to see you again too Tikki.” The other kwami’s voice was dry with humor.

The tiny kwami huffed indignantly before her voice dropped low and she whispered into Marinette’s ear, “Don’t do anything stupid, please?”

“I won’t, it’ll be alright.”

They were left in pitch darkness, with little to guide them but sound. She pulled off her shoes and kicked them under her bed. Eventually, Chat spoke up. “This is going to sound really awkward, but where are you?”

“Right here.”

She could hear him sigh with exasperation. “Do me a favor and keep talking? We probably should have thought this out a bit better.”

“Hey, it was your idea.”

“I know but I’m not known for my good decisions.” He must have been walking with his hands out, trying to find her. She repeated this like three times in her head, trying to keep from yelling, but it didn’t help much because one hand had landed squarely on her chest.

“Would you mind removing your hand? That’s uh…”

His hand snapped away as though he’d been burned. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t even have a lame joke to crack.”

“And for once, I’m relieved.” She reached forward and found him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

His hands ghosted down her sides, finally settling tentatively at her hips. “Better?”

“Mmhmm.” It was strange. Chat, whose personality and mannerisms usually took up so much space, was everywhere and nowhere at once. He seemed so much less ridiculous like this. His hands were on her hips but not in the right place. She moved her hands to his wrists, shifting them a bit, to a near perfect spot. Without the suit, she could feel his skin, even the odd callouses that stretched across his right palm.

She pulled away, giving a bit of space between them. “I have a couple questions for you.”

“Hit me.”

“What do you want from all of this?”

There was a small intake of breath and his grip loosened as he sat back on his haunches. His voice was different when he spoke again, cracking a bit at the edges. “What do I want?”

“Where do you see this going?”

His hand caught her arm again and he ran his hand down to meet her hand. When he found it, he took it and folded it between both of his hands. “You know, it’s been so long since someone asked me what I want I’m not even sure.” He laughed faintly, unlike the usual sound she was accustomed to but not altogether unfamiliar. “And to be honest, I’m not sure where it’s going either. I’d like it to go somewhere, but it’s more complicated than that, you know? It’s difficult to be involved with someone you don’t know.”

“You’ve been after me for years. Why now?”

“I think that’s something you’re going to have to ask yourself. The only real difference to me is that you started flirting back. So how about I turn that question around on you: why now?”

He was right. The last two years had been a mess. Nino and Alya dating had put her in a position that she hung out with Adrien frequently, and it was clear he thought of her as a friend. A good friend, of course, he’d never been anything but nice. She still liked him, she really did, but as amazing as he was, he seemed too…ordinary. Her long-ago dream of two kids and a hamster seemed so bland, with the last four years of adventure she’d faced with her partner. Maybe, somewhere in the future, that’s where life would take her, but for now she had a vibrant disaster of love and affection that had been after her for years. She’d trusted him with her life for years, and he’d always been there for her, despite the minor mistakes they’d both made along the way.

It seemed like it would be best to move on. 

“Remember that awful crush I had?”

He snorted. “The one that barely knew you?”

“I mean, I’m friends with him now. Really good friends. But I don’t think it was ever smart of me to like him.”

There was silence in the darkness. “So I’m still playing second fiddle, hm?”

“What?” She started, not realizing he might take it like that. “No! That’s not what I meant, I meant…oh this is going to sound so stupid. I meant I’ve been blind, and I never really even gave you a shot because I was hoping that maybe, somehow, this other guy would come around or something but somewhere along the way I realized I’ve been horribly blind.” She took a deep breath. “You’re like my best friend and I’m…I’m afraid to ruin what we have. And I understand if you’re upset with me, or angry, or whatever. I get it.”

“You’re afraid?”

Her breath whooshed out. “Yes, Paris’s one and only fearless Ladybug is afraid. Shocking, I know, but I’m not quite as bold without the mask.” Her legs felt wobbly with the admission and she could feel the delicate balance she stood on. There was nowhere else to go, and she waited for his judgement to fall.

He took a deep breath. “I feel like I should somehow be upset but I’m not.” The words were casual, but she drank them in. “That’s how life is, you know? For awhile, I gave up on you a bit. There was a girl at school that was really nice to me, a couple of our friends started dating so we were hanging out more and…”

She felt a relieved giggle welling up. “See, that’s almost the opposite of what happened to me. The guy I was crushing on, our friends started dating and we got to be really close friends, but it never really went anywhere.” *

“So…we meet somewhere in the middle?”

“If you’re alright with that.”

His hands released hers and moved, carefully finding her shoulders, then moving up to her neck and finding the sides of her face. The first touch of his lips was electric, warm and promising so much more. She moved her arms, wrapping them around his neck and deepening the kiss. Her response only urged him further, and he kissed her like a dying man, as though it was the end instead of a beginning. 

They broke apart for a moment, pausing for breath until he leaned forward again, bumping her cheek as he leaned and mumbling an incoherent apology as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. His kisses were firm but without the threat of bruises. Part of her didn’t mind, he could be a bit rougher. It wasn’t like she would break.

His hands were on her hips, the ghost of a touch at the inch of bared midriff. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and her shirt hiked up just a bit. He hesitated there until she leaned into his touch, giving him permission to run his hands further under her shirt. They swept over her stomach, and her sides, clasping about the base of her ribs and pushing her jacket upward a bit.

Now that she couldn’t see him, her senses seemed to zero in on his voice and his touch. When he spoke again, she could hear the breathlessness in his voice. “Can this…?”

“Yeah, it can go.” She shrugged off the jacket and his hands caught her about the ribs again.

Once her arms were freed, she took the opportunity to reach for him, to feel what he was wearing. A button-down, with another shirt underneath. Simple enough, and she started in on the buttons.

Her attentions weren’t enough to pull him away from his own ministrations. “Mmm thanks.” The words were mumbled into the skin between her neck and her collarbones and she swore she could feel the vibrations of his voice.

“No problem.” She pulled him to where she knew her bed would be, still caught slightly off guard when it hit the back of her legs. He seemed surprised by her hesitation, and it gave her a moment to drag them both backward to a flurry of laughter.

Agile as ever, Chat caught himself as she dragged them both backward, landing atop of her but catching most of his weight. She could feel the press of his hands on the mattress on either side of her, the slight sinking and shift of the blankets. His hands quested over her, touching gently until he found her face. He paused for a moment, then ran his hands across her cheeks, one hand finding her kiss-swollen lips and tracing the shape of them.

“You have beautiful lips.” He seemed to contemplate things for a moment, and she was starting to wonder if he really was a romantic at heart, but then he followed it up with, “Admittedly, that’s one of the few things I can see with the mask.”

She nearly laughed, and settled for catching his hand instead and pressing a kiss to his fingers. When he finally slips his hand free of her grip, it runs along her jaw and he leans down into a slow, almost lazy kiss. He was careful and questioning as he turned her head with the hand at her jaw, the first kiss along her neck barely a suggestion until she hummed encouragement.

His hands, warm and careful, ran backward across her scalp, finally unable to continue as her hair ties stopped him. As he looped his hand gently on one of the ties, she took it as a question and tugged the ties from her hair. He carded his hand through her hair, letting it whisper like silk between his fingers. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

“I mean, I’ve never seen you with your hair combed, you ridiculous alley-cat.”

He snorted. “Touché.” He swept her into an enthusiastic hug and buried his face in the nape of her neck. “Mmm,” he sighed contentedly.

“Hm?”

“Your hair smells like cinnamon.” Chat’s voice was impossible to understand. Most of the time it was smooth and clear, but every once in awhile, when he was particularly flirtatious, it would drop lower, rougher, more of a growl than a purr.

“Ah, I was helping my dad make Danish pastries with cinnamon.”

“You bake?”

She spoke hesitantly, knowing full well that the bakery downstairs would be enough to give her identity away entirely if she wasn’t careful. Chat didn’t seem to have noticed it, but still. “I enjoy baking on occasion, yes.”

He curled around her, his hands up her shirt, and he groaned with frustration.

“Are you alright?”

Silence and stillness were the only response, then, “I’d memorize everything about you if I could.”

“But you’ve known me for…”

He kissed her again, hushing her. “Not quite what I meant.”

“Tell me what you mean, then.”

“So this,” a hand left her ribs to run the length of a scar that crossed most of her bicep, “I remember this one. I can feel it, I don’t have to see it to know it’s there. That one akuma, the plumber that threw a sewer cap at you? But how many other scars do you have that I don’t know about? Or like…what do you do in your spare time, besides patrolling with me? You said you bake? I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve hugged you and smelled something in your hair, like fresh bread or desserts or…or cinnamon. Is that creepy?”

“No, not at all. I mean, it might be to someone else, but not to me.”

Her breath seemed to leave her as he curled into her, hugging tightly. “I feel like I know you so well, but somehow not at all.” 

Words, when she found them, weren’t easy. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed melodramatically and kissed her neck again. “It’s alright. It’s just hard to care so much about someone and not really feel like you know them. Like what’s your life like?”

“Oh no, we didn’t agree to that.”

“I know. I’m still curious.” She could feel his breath, warm at her collarbone, slowly drifting downward. 

“I feel like there are probably other things you’re more curious about.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say _more_ curious. Equivalently curious?” She could feel the smirk on his lips in the kiss.

“Oh for the love of…” if he wasn’t going to take the first step, she was. Her hands didn’t dance about the hem of his shirt, they grabbed and they pulled it up over his chest, pushing him and forcing him to sit back on his haunches as she dragged it up over his head. It was hardly gone and his lips were back on her, sucking at her neck. “You’re a terrible tease.”

“I’m a terrible tease?” His hands caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, their lips separating just long enough to speak and strip.

“Don’t even argue it.” Clothes disappeared, much quicker with prompting. Shirts, his shoes, belts, it all came off and there was so much skin to run hands over. Pants were rather more awkward, but even they went. His hands roamed, and there was a breath she could barely take in as he unclipped her bra, but even that disappeared into the darkness of the floor.

And there was the line.

A nervous twist settled in her stomach and vulnerability settled in. She trusted him, she’d have trusted him with her life, but there was no way to avoid the painful truth. She was vulnerable, so vulnerable. Her heart fluttered as he kissed a trail from her neck to her belly button, and she wondered if she was wearing it on her sleeve, to push things this far with Chat.

“I’m assuming we’re still going by what we said earlier, right?” 

The nervous pool in her stomach let go, and she nearly sighed with relief. He’d been the one to bring it up again. Limits, lines, whatever you called them, they had set them on the way here and the fact that he’d been the one to bring it back up nearly made her cry with relief. “I think that’s best, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm, that’s why I brought it up.”

She relaxed again, her hands roaming in a way they hadn’t before, feeling the smooth curves and planes of muscle. Normally, everything about him seemed so loose and relaxed she almost forgot that he was incredibly lean for his height.

Eventually though, she found something that gave her pause. “You’re a briefs kind of guy, huh?”

“In my defense, have you ever thought about what a nightmare it would be to wear boxers in a leather suit? Bad news there.”

“No need to defend yourself, I understand.” She found a giggle leaving her throat before his hand drifted to her hip, around the back, grabbing tentatively, as though worried he’d go one step too far. His breath caught at the lack of fabric. “You know, I don’t know that I ever would have made you out as a thong person.”

“Hey, don’t judge, it’s the same reason. Ever thought about underwear lines in that suit? Absolute disaster.” She sighed. “Here’s a story for you, you’d probably think it’s funny. A long time ago, a friend of mine who happens to run a blog about Ladybug…” she stopped as she felt him choke. “What?”

He burst into full-throated laughter. “You said that so casually! Like ‘no big deal, I’m friends with a huge fan’…”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” she said. “Anyway, she had a picture of me, it was awhile back but I had normal underwear on. She was going on about what the suit could be made of, and then told me straight to my face that Ladybug needed to invest in some thongs.”

This time, he laughed so hard he fell completely off of her. His weight was suddenly gone and she heard him land on the floor with a thump and an undignified squawk. There was hardly the space of a breath before the laughter resumed, and she found herself leaning over the edge of the bed even though she couldn’t see a thing. “You alright?”

He gasped for breath, not from desire but because he was laughing so hard. “She told you you needed to invest in thongs?”

“Shhhhh, not so loud!” she hissed. She could feel the bed move as he climbed back up, flopping down next to her as he tried to stifle a laugh.

“But imagining you…wait, is it the girl that runs the Ladyblog?”

“…yes.”

“Oh noooo. I know her, I’m never going to be able to look her in the face without laughing.”

“Imagine what _I_ have to do!”

“I’m never going to be able to look you in the face. I'll see her”

“Oh shush.” He curled back up with her, his head on her chest and his arm wrapped around her. The feeling of his skin was like the comfort of sinking into a warm bath, and she could have melted into the sensation.

He tensed and grabbed her tight, flipping their positions and pulling her on top of him with strength that shouldn’t have been surprising, but somehow still was. She reminded herself that he was consciously holding back. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, she was doing the same, but it had never been a challenge for her to do so. It appeared it was rather more of a challenge for him.

She found herself on top of him and nervously pushed her weight off of him, settling her knees on opposite sides of his hips. “Are you alright with this? 

“Uhhm…this might sound weird, but it’s probably best for you to decide how far this goes. I’ve got plenty self-control, but I’m…” His voice broke a bit. “I don’t trust myself not to hurt you somehow.”

“You won’t, I’m not as breakable as you seem to think.”

“I didn’t mean physically, I know full well you’re tough as hell. I just…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Affection flooded her chest and she caught his face in her hands. “You won’t.”

He surged up and caught her, pulling her down into a kiss and filling her senses. She could feel the world stilling around them and slipping away, closing everything else off until it was just the two of them. It was easier to move, and she found her hands tracing patterns across his skin, exploring. His did the same, although they settled again at her hips and let her do as she wanted.

It was easy, then, to move where she pleased. She could ghost her lips across his collar bones and draw noises from him, not quite moans, but something visceral that seemed to buoy her up. Confidence growing, she pressed herself to him and experimentally rolled her hips, something she’d heard from Alya. At the time, it had seemed like altogether too much information, but it certainly seemed applicable now.

Being so close to him was intoxicating, like some kind of drug that warmed her from the inside out, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading as she moved. Even though she was uncertain, she followed the feeling and felt him tense, trying not to shift under her. It took a minute to find a motion that felt right, but when she did an inadvertent “mmm” slipped from her lips.

“Oh my god, you’re amazing.” He sounded winded, as though he’d just caught up with her in a race along the rooftops.

He’d been turned on before, but as she ground up against him it became clear that his reservations were falling apart. She could feel the bulge in plenty of detail, and there was a small part of her mind that swore like a sailor and wondered how exactly that was supposed to fit _anywhere_. The practical side of her hummed not to worry about it, that it was a question for another day.

She hummed. “I’m really not, I’m just…”

He cut her off with another kiss, letting her go to say, “Hush and take the complement.”

“No, but really. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What, did you think I ever did? As far as I’ve ever been able to tell, we’re both clueless.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Although you sure seem to have figured something out pretty quickly.”

That wasn’t quite true. She’d kissed Nathaniel, years ago when they’d tried dating for a couple weeks. She’d never had the feeling for him she had for Chat, and everything about the experience had felt listless, everything but the nervousness that had fluttered in her stomach at her first kiss. There had never really been anything between them, and they’d parted on mild terms.

But this, the feeling of taking control was new, and she found she enjoyed it. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his reactions as she moved. His hands were never still, stroking her, dancing along her back, her shoulders, running down her sides to make a tentative grab at her butt. She hummed approval into his skin and she could feel him respond, breath sticking in his throat as she moved.

It quickly became apparent to her that underwear was distracting, to say the least. As it was, the thong was a general annoyance and she found herself wishing she’d thought this through a bit better. In fact, she couldn’t remember thinking this through ahead of time at all.

It was alright, so long as they didn’t take this too far.

She changed up her pattern and an electric thrill shot through her, dragging her attention back to the here and now. The moan that left his lips curled in her stomach, winding its filthy way through her flesh, and lodging in her heart. How something that sounded so obscene could hum under her skin like a live wire, she had no idea, but she was willing to pursue it, repeating the same motion and hearing him slowly let go of his reservations.

Abruptly, his hands tightened on her hips, much stronger than she expected. They stopped her motion entirely, and she could hear him trying to catch his breath. “I know this is-it’s going to sound stupid, but I don’t know that I can…” His voice was low and rough with want, and part of her wished she could see him, identities be damned. He sounded _wrecked_ , and the thought that she was the one to blame was a power trip like she’d never felt before.

She moved her hands to his, keeping her hips carefully still as she lifted his hands and entwined their fingers. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“I’m not really sure if you…”

She pushed his hands back into the pillow his head was on and leaned forward, dragging another gasp from him. “Do you want me to stop?”

His voice, strangled and somewhat guilty, sent thrills up her spine. “…no.”

She took it as permission and started moving again, feeling a current crackling under her skin as his breath hitched and his hips shifted, bucking up into hers, desperately seeking more contact. Their hips moved together and he finally found the friction he’d been seeking. The sound he made was incredible, and she watched in fascination as he snapped, like a guitar string pulled too taught.

The power trip, when it hit her, was an adrenaline rush. She’d done this to him, taken him apart piece by piece until he finally lost all sense of the world around him, just for a bit. She could feel that he was a mess under her, and she found herself wishing yet again that she could see him. His voice was a mess, she could feel the slight tangles as she ran her hand through his hair. What did he look like? She answered her own question, thinking ‘ _damp and disgusting_ ’ but closely following it up with ‘ _mine_ ’. 

“I’ll be right back.” Her words drew an incoherent mumble from him.

She knew her room like the back of her hand, and went to the bathroom for a warm washcloth. She caught view of herself in the mirror and was shocked. She blushed lightly, rather than the usual blotchy mess she felt it made of her face. Was this really how she looked? 

Self-consciousness gripped her. What was she doing? Her partner was a wreck in her bed, she was standing in her bathroom with next to nothing on, and she looked like a mess. She cringed, wondering when her life had become such a fiasco. She pulled her hair up in a ponytail and grabbed a pair of sweatpants that had been hanging on the back of her door and looked through the other things there, desperately wishing she’d left a shirt, a bra, something in the bathroom. It seemed she was finally out of luck. She sighed and ran water, washing her face quickly and soaking a warm washcloth before wringing it out.

The darkness in her room was near complete, and she heard a surprised intake of breath as she put the washcloth in his hand. His voice was still rough. “Right, thanks. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Did you see the light when I flicked it on?”

“Mmhm.” He climbed up and she heard him moving in that direction. A thump and a flurry of swearing had her fighting a giggle as he ran into her steamer trunk, and he eventually found the door and closed it.

She found herself staring up at the ceiling wondering just how they’d found themselves here. Her mind wandered, and she nearly dozed off.

She woke to a weight on her legs. “You awake?”

“Mmhm. You alright?”

“I…uh…was going to ask you the same thing.” The embarrassment in his voice was clear, and tired as she was, it took her awhile to process the question. 

When she realized, though, she felt her face burn again and was grateful for the dark. “Oh! No, I’m-I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, I’m alright.”

“I, um…” she’d never heard him like this before. It was entirely un-Chat-like, and a bit odd. Was this what he was normally like? It couldn’t be, he was normally so forward. “I can go then.”

“Wait.” She looked in the direction of his voice. “Stay awhile?”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

He climbed under the covers with her, curling up with her for warmth. His chest pressed against her back and his top arm wrapped about her waist, pulling her close. His face nestled in her hair and she could feel his breath, warm on her neck. She heard him mumble the words “…too good to me.”

She dozed off, profoundly happy to be wrapped up with him.

* * *

She woke to the faint light of her desk lamp across the room. In the bleary light, she was able to make out his silhouette, pulling clothes back on. Something about him, suitless, struck a familiar chord with her. Who did he remind her of…?

The light. In a panic, she grabbed the blanket she was curled under and flung it over her face. “We weren’t supposed to find out each other’s identities!”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I already knew, it’s ok.”

She could feel her face burning, although she peeked out from behind the blanket. “And you still like me? Are you crazy?”

“I used to see you almost every day, but I don’t see you as often now.” He had turned his back to her as he dressed. She could see little but his silhouette as he pulled his shirt on. “I’ve always liked Ladybug, but when I figured out who you really were, it…” he sighed. “You’re the most generous person I know. You give and you give and you give to everyone you know, and now somehow you’ve even done the same to me.”

“That’s not why…” she stopped abruptly. “Wait. You don’t just know who I am, you know me.”

“Hang on, let me finish. For once, I wish you would just take what you want. It’s so hard to tell with you, I’m never quite sure if it’s me or if there’s someone else.” She started to speak, and he held up his hands. “I know what you said, but I’m worried you’ll think you’ve made the wrong decision. Don’t answer that. Just…make a real decision. One you won’t regret.”

She couldn’t see his face, but with the lamp on it was no question that he could see hers. “I know you, don’t I?”

His silhouette nodded, just barely, and flicked the light off again. There was a flash of greenish light, and darkness again. She was almost convinced he’d left, but a weight pressed down on the bed next to her and said otherwise. “Marinette, please. I care about you, and you seem to care about the rest of the world…too much. You’re running yourself down trying to take care of everyone else. I can hardly stand the shadows under your eyes in the daylight, I wish you’d get more sleep.”

The full implications of it hit her. He knew who she was. He knew, and he hadn’t told her. The realization sucked the air from her lungs, and she struggled for breath. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “I might, if only a certain feline didn’t keep me up.”

“Would you rather I didn’t?” She could hear the humor in his voice.

“Not at all.” The kiss, when it came, was nothing but a soft touch of lips on her forehead. 

A moment later, the hatch to her balcony clicked, and the room was silent but for her breathing.

* * *

She woke in her desk chair, face-first on homework she hadn’t finished. The darkness outside was reassuring, promising her a couple more hours of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *look, her brain is really, desperately trying to make the connection here. Love the girl to death, but some days I feel like she’s in obstinate denial.
> 
> Have you ever tried to hide underwear lines in a spandex leotard? It’s not pretty.
> 
> Also, to any dudes planning on doing a Chat Noir cosplay, please do all the little children a favor and invest in a dance belt. Please.
> 
> Marinette's reaction isn't supposed to be a porn-y 'omg your dick is so biiiiig' reaction. It's like...a fairly normal reaction like 'you know, I've seen a little bit of porn and everyone says things are totally unreasonable in it, so I'd scaled my expectations waaaay down and even though your junk is totally average...I'm not actually sure quite how this is supposed to work'
> 
> I thrive on comments. Let me know what you like/don't like!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone that’s been enjoying this piece, thank you for reading! I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you that, while they’ve been getting frisky in their respective dreams and future events may run similarly smoothly, this chapter is going to stick exclusively to reality. I’d apologize for the chapter length, but things got a bit out of hand. I suppose this chapter could almost be a 9000+ word stand-alone fic, but where’s the fun in that?
> 
> Basically, it means that yes, it’s going to be awkward at some parts. Because while their minds are half in the gutter, they’re still pretty clueless. There’s a lot of fluff and awkwardness. And some smut.
> 
> Also a reminder that they're aged-up in this. Stay safe, guys. Discuss your boundaries and don't do anything stupid.

In the end, real life was much less convenient than dreams.

The four of them, Nino, Alya, Adrien, and Marinette, were supposed to meet up at Nino’s before heading out on another video project. If anyone had asked Marinette, she’d have grumbled about Alya and Nino still trying to set her up with Adrien.

Everything about it felt contrived, like a she was walking into a setup. They’d even talked about it, the two of them. She’d been relieved when he’d mentioned it, bringing it up in conversation and letting it go just as easily. Their friends were trying to get them together, but it just didn’t feel right. They each had their own private reasons, but it passed out of conversation as easily as it had come up, and somehow her chest felt as though a weight had been lifted.

Still, they worked together fairly well, and she was happy to be there. At least, she was until she tripped on one of Nino’s little brother’s toys. She found herself on the floor, internally cursing at her lack of tact without the suit.

Adrien held out a hand. “You alright?”

Marinette’s laugh was light as he pulled her to her feet, but she was left feeling like a fool. She desperately hunted for something to say, anything but her first thought _Your hands are soft but you’re way stronger than I expected I am so far in over my head please don’t notice my hand is sweaty please just let go before I do something stupid..._

“Thanks. I…ah…like your ring, it’s similar to one a friend of mine has.” The words were out of her mouth and it took a solid five seconds for it to catch on something in her mind and spark the sequence of thoughts that knocked into each other like dominos. The ring.

“Thanks, it was a gift. Fits perfectly though, I’ve had it for years.” He smiled kindly.

It was Chat’s ring. She’d seen it in her dream but that was his ring.

Adrien was wearing Chat’s ring.

Which meant…

* * *

He blew it off. People had noticed the ring before, it was inconspicuous enough. The line he’d used a hundred times was out in a blink. “Thanks, it was a gift. Fits perfectly though, I’ve had it for years.” 

He thought it was enough, and for a long moment it was. Then, with terrifying speed Marinette’s head shot up and she stepped back, her eyes widening into wide blue pools.  
As shocked as she looked, the first thing to run through his mind was that he’d never noticed how huge and blue her eyes…

_Oh._

_Oh my god._

The words came out on reflex. “Oh my god.”

Marinette stood there, gaping at him. When she finally pulled herself together enough to put words together, he was in for an earful. “What the _actual fuck_ …?!”

Hearing her swear would have been enough of a shock without the original realization, but both put together left him mute, standing there simply trying to process the information. 

And now that he saw it, there was no doubt who she was, the absolute fire in her eyes was the superheated blaze of a torch he’d seen behind the mask. He managed a single word before the world came crashing down. “You’re…!”

“How the _hell_ are you…?!”

“Hey guys, what’s going on…?” Nino poked his head in, trying to understand what was happening.

“GET OUT!” The shout was in-sync, and even though he shut the door hurriedly, there was no way he was walking away. Even through the door, he could hear everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!?”

“You didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Did you know?!” Marinette’s voice rose, making the sound of the front door shutting a background noise.

“I just realized!”

The yelling continued as Nino turned to find Alya, her arms crossed angrily. “What’s going on?”

He gave her an encouraging thumbs up. “I think it’s working?”

The door slammed open and Marinette came out, wearing a look of fury Alya had never seen before. Adrien followed behind, looking mildly terrified and lost. “Can we just talk about this?”

“We are NOT talking about this right now!” She grabbed her boots and shoved her feet in them, sending a withering glare at him before grabbing her bag from a hook, stomping out the door, and slamming it behind her.

Adrien was left standing in the foyer, Nino and Alya looking up the stairs curiously. His heart was pounding, his head spinning, and he was halfway through pulling his own shoes on before Nino spoke up. “So…what’s going on?”

Adrien’s voice was tight and painful. “Do what you can without us, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be fishing my body out of the Seine.” He left, forgetting his jacket in his rush.

“Think it’s working?”

Alya slugged him in the shoulder. “Working? Did you see that mess?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

* * *

Marinette walked, barely keeping herself on her feet. She probably looked half crazy, but it was hard to care about appearances at a time like this.

Her mind spun. The world had seemed to tilt with the force of the anger and betrayal she’d felt. Had everything she’d felt toward Adrien actually been directed toward Chat? Or were her newfound feelings for Chat simply based on how she’d felt toward Adrien for years?

Confusion, anger at herself, and an acute sense of betrayal roiled in her chest like a pot about to boil over. How could she not have seen it? How could she have been so blind?

Now that they were one and the same, what did it all mean? And why did her chest hurt so badly?

* * *

When she got the call for the latest akuma, she almost didn’t go.

Almost.

She made the decision in a split second, and decided that it wasn’t right to make ordinary citizens suffer for her sake. It seemed Chat had been fighting the huge man, a banker by the look of him, for some time. 

Poor thing never even saw her coming.

She ripped his tie off of him and ripped it straight in half. She caught the akuma, snapping her compact shut and purifying it. As the butterfly gently winged away, she turned to find Chat giving her a sheepish smile.

“So can we…”

“No.”

“What, you won’t even let me talk?”

“Don’t do this to me right now, Chat.” The way she snapped his name was almost accusatory.

His mouth turned down. “Fine. But we really do need to talk.”

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Why?”

She felt like crying. “I can’t.”

“Why? Please, just give me some kind of reason here. I’m lost.”

“Some other time when I can say what I properly need to say.”

“Seems like now’s as good a time as any other.”

“It’s not.” Her words were hard and cold, and the look on his face was like a stab in the heart. Rather than standing there and facing him down, she ran. She didn’t stop til she was nearly halfway across the city, on a hard-to-find rooftop she’d used to hide from an akuma before, in civilian form. She sat in silence, feeling the emotions building behind the wall she’d constructed to block them out.

When she finally gathered the strength to go home, her mother noticed her mood. “Marinette? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it. Maybe some other time.” She trudged upstairs, then thought better of it. “If anyone comes by for me, tell them I’m not up for visitors right now.”

Sabine looked concerned, but nodded. “I’ll come check on you in awhile.”

As soon as the door to her room clicked, exhaustion sunk in, pushing on her shoulders and weighing her down. She wanted nothing more than to clean up and go to sleep, so she went to shower. She sat down on the floor of the shower and cried, until she couldn’t cry anymore. She wasn’t entirely sure why, or how her hopes and fears all laced together, but the dam broke and the resulting flood left her feeling better, if a bit hollow.

* * *

In all the scenarios he’d gone through in his head, this had not been one of them. He’d thought about the possibility of an identity reveal before, and how Ladybug might react. He’d hoped she would be able to see the real him past the popular model.

He’d never considered the possibility of knowing her, and he’d never once considered the possibility of her being Marinette.

And on top of that, she wouldn’t talk to him. There was no chance to talk it out because she wouldn’t talk, at least not as Ladybug.

He looked down at his empty ring as Plagg sat on his shoulder, eating a chunk of cheese. “I think we need to go pay the Dupain bakery a visit.”

The visit was unsuccessful, and even though Mrs. Cheng was kind in her refusal, he found himself standing under the bakery awning to avoid the slowly increasing drizzle.

“You know, when I first realized things this afternoon, I thought this would solve a lot of problems. Instead, it created more.”

Plagg shrugged. “You need to talk to her, and to talk to her you need to convince her to let you in.”

Adrien looked up at the balcony he knew belonged to Marinette. “She’s going to kill me.”

* * *

There was a faint knock on her trapdoor, and she looked up suspiciously. A minute passed and she was starting to wonder if she was hearing things when another knock came.  
Reluctantly, she pushed the trapdoor open and looked out at the lanky shadow on her balcony. “What do you want?”

He leaned against the railing, hunched a bit against the drizzling rain. “I’d make some sort of witty quip, but I don’t think that’s going to get me anywhere right now. I told you before, I want to talk.”

The feeling of helplessness that had caught her earlier welled up again and the words came out angrier than she intended. “What is there to talk about?”

“You’re joking, right?” His eyes widened with exasperation.

She took everything in, sighed and motioned him in, out of the rain. Once inside, she grabbed a fresh towel from her bathroom and tossed it at him. His smile was tentative and grateful, and her heart gave a lurch as she recognized who it belonged to.

She crossed her arms, refusing to fall apart over something as simple as a smile. “So. What do we need to talk about?”

“You know what, I’m not even going to pull any punches. We need to talk about this afternoon, at Nino’s.” He toweled off the suit quickly and ruffled the towel around in his hair. When he put it down, his hair was as wild as it ever was as Chat, and she vaguely wondered if it looked like that all the time and he just styled it to get his signature style.

She caught her runaway train of thought and pulled it back on track. “And what if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know that I want to either, but we’re in a bind now, so we might as well.” His mouth twisted. “And to be honest, at this point I feel like you’re just doing this interrogation-style to spite me for not telling you. So I'd like to take the opportunity to remind you that was your idea to keep our identities secret in the first place.”

That was the first thing that pulled her back to the ground. He was right, she’d been on edge since Alya’s.

His next question caught her off guard. “Can I drop the transformation?”

She paled and ran her hand back through her hair. “I just…”

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

She stood there with crossed arms. “How am I even supposed to look you in the eye?”

“Same as you have for the last few years?” His voice was hopeful, even pleading.

“That’s easier said than done.” Memories of dreams popped into her head and she blanched. She’d been dreaming about Adrien for years and the most recent ones featuring Chat had been every bit as problematic. Thank goodness she’d taken down his posters ages ago. “It’s…difficult. You’re more difficult to talk to when you’re you.”

He sat there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “I mean, I’m still me, either way?”

She looked agitated, even flustered. Her arms uncrossed and she picked up her phone from where it had been lying on her desk, shoving it into her back pocket. “No, I know, I know that. It’s just that you’re usually…different.”

“What, the fake public personality my dad’s made me wear for years? Nah.” He sat on the floor, flopping to sit on the soft area rug. “Chat’s me without the usual limitations.”

“Chat’s an insufferable flirt.”

He raised his hands and shrugged. “Hey, what can I say?”

“Are you going to be like that with me all the time now that I know?” she crossed her arms defensively.

Even behind the glass, she could see his eyes widen. “No! I mean, not unless you want me to. And not in public. Really, nobody can know.” He looked up at her earnestly again. “So…the transformation?”

She knew where this was going, and she felt a bit helpless to change the course of it. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He smiled widely and with a flash of green light, the catsuit disappeared. Something small and black crawled into the pocket of his shirt, grumbling.

Adrien Agreste, the boy she’d had the worst crush of her life on for years before they became friends, was laying on her bedroom carpet. _The_ Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, internationally known model, the one she’d had picture perfect posters of hanging around her room, the ones where he’d seemed so distant and unattainable, gazing dreamily off into the distance.

Thank goodness he didn’t look so distant and perfect now, though. His hair was thoroughly rumpled and an ugly bruise from the earlier fight was developing on his arm.  
That brought her back to reality. This was also her partner, and he looked exhausted. There were shadows under his eyes, and she was surprised she hadn’t noticed them before. He sighed with relief and lay down on his stomach, stretching and propping himself up on his elbows. “So, thoughts?”

She looked down at him and perched in her rolling desk chair, curling her legs up. “I’d laugh at you if I weren’t still trying to equate you and Chat as the same person in my mind.”

“School practically kills me, you know. Sitting in the same position for that long? It’s a nightmare.”

She bit back a smile. “So? You wanted to talk.”

“Straight to the point, huh?” He took a deep breath. “I just…I wanted to make sure we’re still alright. Things between us. Other than the whole ‘I’m Chat Noir and you’re Ladybug’ bit.”

“Kind of a big ‘bit’.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m more worried about the fact that I’ve…well, I’ve been making passes at Ladybug for years.” His expression twisted with embarrassment. 

Her heart sank. Somehow, she’d known this was coming. “I get it, it’s disappointing. You get to know the more confident version of me as Ladybug and Marinette is a bit of a disappointment in comparison.”

He looked up at her, startled, then held his hands up defensively. “Woah, don’t go putting words in my mouth like that. Yes, I like Ladybug, but I also like Marinette. I’ve liked Ladybug longer because, unless my memory fails me, Marinette basically didn’t talk to me a couple years ago. I mean, we didn’t really hang out much until Nino and Alya started dating. Also, it's weird to talk about you using two different names, and not 'you'.”

She sighed and he could feel her reluctance to have this conversation. His eyes narrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She tried to play it off with a weak laugh. “Nah, it’s…” He flipped over onto his back on the carpet, a distinctly Chat-like gesture. Something about it set her more at ease. Chat was easy to handle, easy to talk to. Much easier than Adrien, at least. “It’s cool.”

He looked up at her and tried again. “I mean, if you're worried I don't like you as Marinette or something, that's not the case. Once you started talking to me, it would have been really hard not to like you, even if I’d tried.”

She blinked “Wait, what?”

“I mean, you’re ridiculously nice to everyone! Like the only people I’ve ever seen you get mad it are Chloe and Sabrina, but it was always when you were standing up for other people. Well, and me. This afternoon.” He whistled. “I thought you were going to kill me, my god.” 

“I was surprised!”

“And _angry_! Are you kidding? I’ve never seen you so upset.”

“I get that, but everything hit me at once and it just…everything about it was so unfair.”

He flipped over and propped himself up on his arms again. “What do you mean, unfair?”

She sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“One of my best friends turns out to be the masked hero I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years. The friend that I fell for and never had the guts to ask out because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, so I just bottled up everything I felt and directed it at my partner. That's all happened today. So try me.” The bare truth was out in words, and it was like an elixir. Her jaw dropped, and it was a solid ten seconds before she closed it.

“You can’t mean that.” Her words were quiet, almost strangled.

“That I’m in love with you?” his heart constricted and released, flooding him with relief. It was like a weight off his chest to be able to say it. “That I fell in love with you the day Ladybug saved my sorry ass falling out of the sky when the Bubbler nearly got us killed?” Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And then you turned out to be gutsy around everyone but me, as I found out when you helped me fight Evillustrator, and I liked you as you? I mean every word of it.”

“You hardly…”

“…know you?” He met her gaze. “We finish each other’s sentences as Chat and Ladybug, you can’t seriously think that. And I’m not even done yet. I liked you as a friend, and I thought you were pretty cool, but then Nino and Alya started dating and we started hanging out as a group and I was a goner.” He sighed. “Let me tell you, that was one hell of a conflict. You were the only person I’ve ever met that talked to me and…it was like you could see straight through the front I kept up. I never made a move because I was too afraid to ruin the friendship we had, I was too afraid to lose your respect if I made a pass at you. I thought I’d fallen for two different girls, when in all reality I’d fallen for you all over again.”

There was no possible way for her face to burn any hotter. She wanted to melt into the floor.

“Look, I understand that you don’t exactly see me this way, you never have, but when I realized it was you I had to ask. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s worth the risk. Seeing as we already knew each other’s identities…is there any way you’d give me a shot?”

She nodded, unable to think of words. The change in his expression was heartbreaking, like he’d been terrified of being pushed away. Instead, he looked at her with an expression of pure unadulterated awe.

“I’m not asking for much, just…a date. Give me a date to convince you to let me stick around? I know I’m not as cool or as outgoing as Chat, but it’s just a front, I swear.”

Reality came crashing in and she barely kept herself from snorting from laughter. Instead, she blurted, “You can ask for more than that, I’ve liked you for years.”

He seemed confused. “So even though you turned me down…you liked me?”

“I’ve liked _you_. Adrien you.”

“Wait, what? Why?” if his expression had been any more skeptical, she might have died on the spot.

“I don’t know, I just…” she faltered. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Silence stretched on and on, to the point that it was horribly awkward. She was having a heart to heart with Adrien, one of her closest friends and longtime crush. Worse than that, it had developed into something more than a crush over the course of their friendship. 

“Your carpet is really comfy.” He completely changed the subject and flipped over on his back again.

It took a bit of mental gymnastics to flip her train of thought about. “Um…thanks?”

“You trust me?”

“I…uh…”

“Do you trust Chat?”

“Yes.” Strangely, she was certain about that. She’d have trusted him with her life.

“C’mere.” He patted the space on the carpet next to him.

“What are you…?”

“Just trust me.” She climbed up from the chair and sat down next to him reluctantly. “Lay down, but put your feet over there and-right, like that.” She lay back, looking up at the ceiling. He’d pointed her to a place where she could only see him if she turned her head entirely, and then she found herself inches away from his face. “Now just…look up at the ceiling or whatever, so you don’t have to look at me?”

“Wait, why?” She started to sit up, but he beat her to it.

She found his hand pressed over her eyes, gently but firmly. “Look, just trust me on this.”

It was as though a switch had been thrown. Not seeing Adrien and simply hearing Chat’s voice seemed to be so much more straightforward.

“Does that help?” Not being able to see him, she’d have said in an instant that is was Chat. If it weren’t for the warm skin of his hands instead of the leather of Chat’s gloves, at least.

She sighed, the implications of the situation settling on her. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He chuckled, low and very distinctly Chat-like. She wanted to smack herself. How had she not noticed? “Alright, let’s try this again. Why did you decide you like Adrien? He’s boring, hardly any fun at all.”

“I was convinced that he was the nicest person in the world, and had a horrible crush on him. He never made fun of anyone, he was genuinely nice. And smart, I can’t even tell you the number of times we worked on projects in class that year and we got grouped by seats. Alya could always get him to explain things that the teacher hadn’t really gone into. And he…you…” she stumbled. “You're right, this talking in third person stuff is tricky.”

The humor in his voice was obvious when he spoke again. “You liked me because you thought I was lonely and hot.”

“…at very first, yes. You could say that.” She sighed. “But it was more than that once I got to know you, you were nice to people and…”

“Yeah, but not as nice as you. I just didn’t cause trouble, I kept my head low.”

“Look, even when you first started at school and hung out with Nino almost all the time, you were quiet and kind of lonely. And you were still nice to people, even when they were horrible to you.” She looked up at the ceiling, carefully not looking at him. “I don’t know, you just seemed so much more mature than everyone else, and we were all trying to keep up.”

“Huh. I guess I’ve never really felt like that. I always felt like I was trying to keep up with everyone that had been in school together since they were young. I was the homeschooled kid, so I was the weird one.”

“No you weren’t, people liked you.”

They lay there in comfortable silence for several long minutes. Not being able to see her made his heart pound nervously. What did she think of the whole situation? 

Marinette sighed. “I just…how did we not know?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head, at a loss. “I have no idea. I feel incredibly stupid.”

“It’s because you’re both oblivious.” The dry voice that piped up startled her, and she bolted up.

Adrien’s face reddened. “Uh, so this is my kwami. Plagg, say hi.”

“I already said hi, in the form of ‘you’re both oblivious’.” The black kwami sighed melodramatically. “It’s been like watching a soap opera, the two of you.”

Marinette looked at him curiously for a moment before turning toward her desk. “Tikki?”

“Mmmhmm?” The red kwami flitted over, landing on her shoulder. She was smaller than Plagg, and Adrien watched her with fascination.

“Did you know about this?”

She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well…sort of.”

“So, on a separate but no less important note, I’m hungry,” Plagg cut in. 

Adrien sighed. “I should probably head home and find something to eat.”

Marinette sat up. “Didn’t you eat dinner?”

He shrugged. “I’m fending for myself this week, my dad’s out of town so I don’t have a concrete schedule set. I’ll just head home and get something for Plagg.”

Her smile was tentative but genuine, and he squashed the urge to lean forward and kiss her. “Look, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go down there and tell my mom I’ve got a friend that needs to talk coming over, and he hasn’t eaten dinner yet. It won’t seem too weird, I hope. We can whip something up and after dinner you can ‘leave’ again. If you still want to talk at that point, we’ll figure it out. Sound like a deal?”

“I really wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Oh no, my mom loves having guests. Even unexpected ones.”

“You sure?”

“She was a bit upset earlier when you came by and I didn’t want to talk to you. This should set her at ease.”

“Uh…then sure?” In the blink of an eye, he found himself being pulled to his feet and an umbrella shoved in his hands. Three minutes later, he found himself standing across the street, waiting for her call. While he was thoroughly confused by the turn of events, he certainly wasn’t complaining.

* * *

Sabine Cheng sat in the kitchen, drinking hot water and doing a crossword puzzle, as she often did when Tom went to bed and she wasn’t tired yet. Marinette came in, and from the moment she entered Sabine knew the evening was going to get interesting.

“Uh…”

She put her pen down and looked up at her daughter. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure you’ve got a story for me. What’s going on?”

Marinette, once prompted, didn’t stop. “So I have a friend I needed to talk to earlier, and it didn't really work. I was upset about some other stuff and...yeah. But I just found out he hasn’t eaten dinner yet and he was thinking about swinging by so I was wondering if maybe we could…”

“My goodness, are you asking me to cook for a boy?” her wry humor came across lightly as she smiled.

Marinette reddened. “Um. Not exactly, I was more asking if there were things I could put together…but yes. Basically yes.”

And with that Sabine was a woman on a mission, patting her daughter on the back before quickly pulling things from the fridge. “Of course. It’s simple enough.” She paused for a moment, looking up at Marinette. “But I want information later, or I’ll go prying about myself. And you're lucky I made new broth yesterday, the rest should be fairly quick."

* * *

She opened the door and everything felt strange for a moment. She smiled and folded the umbrella, shaking it on the stoop and hanging it on a hook. It was almost surreal as he realized he was looking at Ladybug at home.

Everything about the place felt like a home, the way he’d always thought a home ought to feel. Since his mother had left, his house had felt empty and cold, almost unfriendly in its cleanliness. Here, it felt lived in and warm, full of life and energy. Adrien blinked as Marinette led him into the kitchen. Something smelled delicious, with the aroma of broth and scallions in the air. His mouth started watering at the smell of it and he gave an appreciative ‘mmm’.

Mrs. Cheng turned around and caught sight of him. She looked him up and down, then glanced at her daughter. “Oh, you didn’t say it was Adrien!” she turned back to him and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around here in awhile. Sit!”

Marinette glanced at him apologetically. “Sorry for the mess.”

Mrs. Cheng was busy over the stovetop, moving quickly. “Do you like egg in your soup?”

He blinked, then glanced at Marinette, who nodded and smiled. “I…sure? If it’s not a problem?”

“Of course it’s not a problem!” She bustled about, prepping bowls as Marinette poured glasses of water. She shooed him away to the table when he asked if there was anything he could do.

He found himself seated at the table, with a huge bowl of soup in front of him. Steam rose off of it, drifting the scent into the air and making his stomach growl. There was a pile of rice noodles, bean sprouts, and a few peppers. Green onion, bamboo shoots, and an egg all nestled atop the noodles in a bath of broth that smelled like the most delicious thing he’d eaten in weeks.

Marinette had a bowl as well. He glanced over and her expression became sheepish. “I was upset and didn’t come down for dinner.”

Mrs. Cheng nodded and picked up her crossword, which had still been sitting on the table. “And I’d be willing to bet it was both of your faults, so I think you have some talking to do. I’m headed upstairs for the night.”

Marinette’s eyes shot wide open. “Mum!” 

Adrien felt his face burn. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh no, no trouble at all! Besides, it’s better that both of you eat. You’re still growing, and you’re both skinny.” She said it bluntly, without hesitation. It wasn’t intended as an insult, merely as an observation. “There’s more if you like, please help yourselves.” She turned to Marinette. “Just be sure to clean up, and lock the door when he leaves. As I said, I’ll let you two talk things out, I’m headed to bed.”

The blush that mottled her cheeks seemed to be fading a bit. “Thanks mum.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Cheng nodded and climbed upstairs.

Adrien looked down at the bowl. “Your mom didn’t have to…”

“She loves cooking for guests. Really.” Marinette smiled proudly. “Even if she’s a bit irked with me for being a hermit earlier.”

The food disappeared faster than he would have imagined, and he’d never felt so comfortable at someone else’s house. Here, even the kwami were able to sit out and eat, provided they could hide at a moment’s notice. Plagg hummed contentedly over a cheese Danish Marinette gave him, while Tikki ate a honeyed croissant nearly as big as she was. The kwami were content to let them talk, distracted with food as they were. 

They talked about school and Nino’s video project, the one they’d so suddenly abandoned. It felt like a joke gone wrong, almost a distant memory. The pattern they fell into was comfortable and friendly, and hope grew in his chest that maybe this entire ordeal wasn’t impossible.

They talked as they cleaned up and did dishes. The conversation was congenial but general, just in case her mother had stayed awake and could hear them.

When he walked out the front door again, it was like the city was brighter, shinier than he remembered. The street lamps were a warmer gold, the night sky above was full of endless possibilities. Even the rain had stopped, leaving a wet sheen on the road that reflected the lights.

On top of all of that, her text had been simple and straightforward.

_Meet me on the balcony in a few minutes, I need to check in with my mom and then I’ll let you in._

* * *

They were lying on her carpet again. Conversation had reached a point of comfortable banter between them, more like Ladybug and Chat’s usual teasing. Even discussing more serious matters, it was easy to talk, if not to figure out the matters themselves.

They’d fallen into an amiable silence when Marinette sighed and spoke up again. “I’m sorry I was upset earlier. Not cool, I know.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I, of all people, get it.”

She sighed, settling back again. “I really am glad it’s you, even if I was upset at first. I wasn’t really sure how to handle it.”

The warmth that flooded his veins was like nothing he’d felt in years, and his emotions very nearly got the better of him. He took a breath, trying to quell the feeling, but it was an audible choke.

“You alright?” Marinette was flopped on her back on the carpet next to him, her head turned and looking at him worriedly. He’d been propped on his side, but he pushed himself up to a seat. If his breath had been had to come by a moment before, his words certainly weren’t. They came pouring out, unstoppable as the tide.

“Can I kiss you?”

She blinked, her mouth dropping open. “What?”

Her confusion was genuine, and he backpedaled a moment, his heart stuttering. “I just thought maybe, you said you liked me and I like you so I thought maybe…”

“Oh.” The word was barely breathed, and she looked up at him with Ladybug’s eyes, intense and impossible. His stomach swooped with apprehension and he held her gaze. She met his stare, unblinking and exposed. When she finally moved, it was a tiny nod of approval or agreement. 

He leaned forward and dug deep, dragging up some of Chat’s courage.

Her lips were soft and sweet, tasting of coconut chapstick and gentle and full of promises she’d kept when no one else had. She’d been with him for years, he’d just been too blind to see it. 

In the back of his mind, he was reminded that this was Ladybug, the woman he’d admired for years. The front of his mind was occupied with the knowledge that this was Marinette, one of his best friends. Marinette, who was sweet and soft and kind beyond belief, who was reliable and brilliant, and who had a backbone of steel when it came to defending her friends.

After a minute, her hands caught the back of his neck, running up into his hair and deepening the kiss. They sank together, drowning in feelings they’d held back for years. It felt like the last few years had led to that point, and Adrien could barely keep his thoughts in a line.

This was Marinette who was bending like wheat in the wind, leaning back to get a better angle to kiss him, her hands gentle on his face. It was Ladybug who was dragging the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless and very nearly begging for more. Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. The same person. And the slow reality of it was crushing his chest, keeping him from breathing as his lungs burned and he felt like he was drowning. Her eyes flickered open like a dream as he stilled and pulled away. 

His eyes were wide with awe. She gave him a questioning look, and he said, “I can barely even believe it. It’s like I still can’t believe it’s you.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’re amazing.”

Her mouth opened. “I’m not…”

“If you say something ridiculous, I’m going to be critical. Snarky, even.”

“Look, I’m just…me! I’m only Marinette, I know you think better of me because you got to know me as Ladybug first but…”

“You and Ladybug are different sides of the same coin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her hands caught his belt, tighter than he expected, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug.

When he left an hour later, he was lit up like a live wire. Plagg grumbled the entire way home, whining about how unbearable he was and how obnoxious humans were.

* * *

The others noticed it. How could they not? Nino and Alya interrogated them but came away with few answers for all their trouble. Still, it was impossible not to see it. Marinette’s shyness around him vanished overnight, and Nino finally started to understand what Alya meant when she said Marinette had a razor-sharp wit. It was like a dam had broken, and watching her and Adrien go back and forth like they’d been together for years was a bit disorienting at times.

Ladybug and Chat held it together in view of the public, for the most part. It wouldn’t do for Paris’s heroes to fail in their duties, of course. If one of them occasionally got caught up staring at the other, it wasn’t like anyone would notice unless an akuma did some serious damage.

Out of the public eye, years of partnership boiled over into something more physical. Now that they knew each other’s identities, they wanted to know everything about each other. Any time they were alone seemed to devolve into making out, practically trying to crawl under each other’s skin.

It wasn’t really a surprise that they wound up at Adrien’s place one night after a patrol, curled up on his bed, kissing slowly for what seemed like ages, tension building. The house was silent with the absence of his father and Nathalie, leaving only a skeleton staff during the day. 

Their kwami had disappeared, likely gone downstairs for something to eat. They had a habit of making themselves scarce when Adrien and Marinette were alone, and neither of them was about to complain.

He’d pulled the hairtie from her ponytail, watching her hair cascade onto the pillow behind her like a blue-black waterfall before catching her mouth again. He knew he was in over his head when he ran his fingers into her hair along her scalp and felt more than heard her hum in pleasure at the sensation.

She was warm and something about her seemed to fit into his life like a missing puzzle piece. The small, pleased noises she made were reaffirming and there was nothing more he wanted than to hear those noises every day for the rest of his life. They could hardly keep their hands off each other, something about all of it seemed right.

As he pressed kisses into her neck and chest, he saw that her shirt had ridden up under his hands, baring the top of the V formed by her hipbones. The sight of a massive blue-ish bruise stopped him cold with concern. “Uh…are you alright?”

Her eyes flicked open and she glanced down to see what was wrong. “Oh. It’s, uh, a birthmark.” Her cheeks reddened.

“But it’s blue, is that normal?” 

“It’s a genetic thing.” Her voice was quiet and embarrassed.

“Oh, ok. Wait, what’s wrong? I didn’t mean to…” he hesitated as she grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her burning face. “Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” He grabbed the pillow and gently wrestled it away. “You’re blushing. Why are you embarrassed?”

She stared up at him, frantically willing the heat in her cheeks to go away. “I don’t know. It all just seems a bit embarrassing?”

“It’s part of you, why would that be embarrassing?”

The spot was large, nearly the size of his handspan, stretching from her hip around her side. He dipped, pressing his lips to the divot of her hipbone and feeling her move, ever so slightly. His hands ran along her sides, finding the perfect place with his thumbs lying in the divot of her hipbones, as though they’d been made to fit there.

Her hum of approval encouraged him, prompting him to plant a kiss on the mark. He trailed a couple kisses over her hip to cross her belly, lean with more muscle than he would have expected if he hadn’t known her true identity. He pushed her shirt up a bit more, catching sight of the underwire of her bra.

He pushed it upward a bit more, wondering when Marinette would draw the line. To his surprise, she pulled it up over her own head, leaving her with only her bra.

She looked down at him and it occurred to her that perhaps she’d pushed things too far. Adrien looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise. The split second of doubt was banished at the rakish grin that crossed his face.

He planted a kiss on her chest and returned to plant another kiss on her lips. “You’re trouble.”

“Mmmhmm.” She caught the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and relishing the warmth of his skin. Her hands threaded through his hair and pulled him back into the kiss, gently nipping at his lower lip.

When she finally broke the kiss and opened her eyes, she felt her face burn at the sight of him. His hair was tousled, sticking up a bit in back, and his face was flushed at least as much as hers. That was nothing in comparison to his lips, wet and kiss-swollen.

Clothing disappeared at an alarming rate. His hips bucked against hers and she ground up against him. It was difficult to form a coherent thought, and he struggled to hold himself together as she slowly unraveled him, piece by piece. Thin layers of fabric were the only things keeping his mind from going straight to hell. 

As she reached for his briefs, he stopped, catching her hand and earning a raised eyebrow for his efforts. “Wait. We should…we should really think this through.”

“Hm, that sounds like you want to talk.” Her eyes were brazen, a look he’d only ever seen from Ladybug when she fought, an expression of confidence. From Marinette, it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to have the same effect on her as she was having on him, in any way possible.

Although his instincts screamed their disapproval, it was the right thing to do. He sat back on his haunches, taking a deep breath and willing himself to focus on the conversation at hand, rather than the way she was oh so temptingly sprawled out in front of him. _Shit. Focus._

He took a deep breath. “We need to be careful.”

She nodded slightly, her expression almost bemused.

“I just…I want to do this right.” He wouldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it. But if he’d been forced to verbalize a reason, it would have been something like _if we’re together for the rest of our lives like I hope, I don’t want you to regret rushing into anything_. “There are-there are things we should talk about, protection, what’s ok, you should at least let me take you out to a nice dinner or something…” Things were moving so fast, and everything he’d picked up in his nearly nineteen years was crowding to the front of his mind, all clamoring for attention. One thing stood out over the others, a fear that he’d do the same sort of damage his father had. “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I think now that we’re actually communicating, it’ll work.” Her eyes were huge and blue and her pupils were blown huge. He could hardly focus on the words coming out of her mouth. “So to answer those questions…tell me what you’re comfortable with and we can see what…what works for both of us. As for protection,” she took a deep breath, and for a moment he’d have sworn the old Marinette, the shy one, was about to step into the conversation. But no, she went ahead, blunt and to-the-point. “I’ve been on meds for years.” He wasn’t mistaken, the corner of her mouth ticked up. “But condoms are probably a good idea too.”

He sat there staring, parsing information at a painfully slow rate. While the conversation was going far better than he’d dared to hope, it was so open he felt like this had to be another dream. It had to be. Marinette would hardly talk to him openly, much less talk with him like this.

“I don’t want to let you down. I want to do things properly.”

She sat up, criss-crossing her legs and pulling a pillow over herself, smiling fondly. “You’ve never let me down.”

Without the visual, his brain decided to start working slightly faster. “I’d beg to differ…”

The kiss she caught him in was gentle in comparison to the heated kisses they’d shared, but it was softer, slower, and more intense. 

He was the first to pull away, squaring her with a relieved look. “You know, I thought this conversation was going to be a lot more awkward than this.”

To his surprise, she reddened. “It, ah, might have passed through my mind once or twice.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one. And not the only one concerned with setting boundaries.”

Mere minutes later, they were curled up together again, awkward interlude out of mind. Her hands traced patterns across his side, his chest, his back, everywhere she could reach. His hand smoothed over the inside of her thigh and she bit back the sound that threatened to leave her throat.

“Is this alright?” Even through the haze, she could hear the slight shake in his voice. 

“Yeah.”

“Stop me if it’s not?”

“Mmhmm.”

His fingers quested further, careful and hesitant. It was nice, but nothing mind-blowing. Somehow she always thought he’d know what he was doing, but his expression said otherwise. “Ahm…you’re going to have to tell me what…what works for you.”

She could feel her face on fire with embarrassment, but at least he was asking. There was no sense in telling him the wrong thing, now was there? She caught his wrist and shifted his hand, ever so slightly, her breath catching as the small circles he made finally hit the right spot. The world seemed to get static-y.

His touches were tentative at first, but he seemed to judge her reactions for what they were fairly quickly. It was almost embarrassing how well he could read her, like an open book. 

As his fingers sank lower and one simply slid in, she gasped. Nerves or not, she was incredibly turned on, and as well as she knew her own body, it was still strange.

His eyes widened with surprise, almost a deer-in-the-headlights look.

If anything could pull her back from the edge she was approaching, it was the look of surprise on his face. It was out of place enough that fear clenched at her chest and the haze of pleasure shifted to the back of her mind. “Is something wrong…?”

“Oh my god.” His voice was ragged around the edges. “You’re so wet.”

“Is that…a problem…?”

“I thought I was doing something wrong.” He leaned forward, planting a smug yet cheerful kiss on her cheek. “Apparently not.”

She could feel the heat rising in her face again and she swore she’d get him back for that later.

“You’re sure this is alright?”

She nodded the affirmative, a dragged out ‘mmmhmm’. He had to focus through the spark of desire it lit under his skin. He was almost thankful her hands had finally left him and were curled in the bedcovers, as he didn’t think he could focus with them on him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but as she relaxed he added another, hoping she might give him some sort of guidance, but none seemed to be coming. Instead, he tried different motions, carefully listening to her reactions and trying to judge what worked for her.

As some point he tried curling his fingers gently, as though beckoning to someone, and the moan that left her lips was quiet, but absolutely _filthy_. It was inadvertent, and she didn’t even seem to know she’d made it, but watching her slowly let go of control was incredibly hot. The noise seemed to hit him in the chest, spreading warmth and then sinking to his stomach, fanning the flames that steadily grew there. Encouraged, he repeated the motion. Her back arched up and one hand clenched at the bed, but the other shot up to cover her mouth, stifling another moan.

He wrapped his free hand around her wrist, pulling it away from her mouth and hoping it wasn’t a step too far. She was usually so in control, and he wanted her to relax, to ditch her usual careful restraint. “There’s nobody here, you don’t have to be quiet.”

The whimper that escaped her lips was like music to his ears, and her eyes shot wide open to look at him. She was one hell of a picture, the blush in her cheeks burning its way down her chest, her pupils blown wide with arousal, her hair tumbled across the pillow behind her. 

Truth be told, there was nothing he wanted more than to push her over the edge she seemed to be on, by any means possible. 

He shot her an encouraging smile and her head dropped back to the pillow with an agonized groan. 

It was only a second’s hesitation before he tried to repeat what he had done, curling fingers gently, trying to find the exact motion that had elicited such a strong response from her. The first two motions he tried drew a quiet ‘mmm’ from her, but the third…

Her back arched up and the noise that came from her mouth was _obscene_. 

If he could have memorized everything about her in that moment, he would have. He knew what it was supposed to be like, theoretically, and he knew what worked for him. But watching her slowly fall apart was mind-blowing. The knowledge that _he_ was the cause set him on edge, barely breathing, as he repeated the action.

The sound she made as she finally lost it flooded his skin with heat and shot down his spine to settle like hot coals in his stomach. It was like his mind had short-circuited, at first throwing out words like _insane_ and _impossible_ before devolving into _holy shit_ on repeat. If he’d been able to think straight, the knot of heat in his stomach would have been nearly unbearable.

The world shattered and the barely coherent thoughts she’d held together fled without a trace. Even behind closed eyelids, the darkness splintered into pinpricks of light that seemed to warm her skin like the sun on a warm day. 

When she managed to open her eyes, she found him staring at her with an expression bordering on awe. She felt her face burn again, and reached for a pillow to cover it.

With Chat-like reflexes, he pinned her arm. Her eyes flicked back to him and he grinned, not missing a beat. “I’m not finished with you.” He planted a burning kiss on her stomach, releasing her arm to shift back toward her hips, and her mind kicked back into gear. Even coming down from the high, something in her twisted uncomfortably in reaction. 

“Erm…could you not…take things farther…like…that…” Her voice came out shaky, but the thought of his mouth on her wasn’t exactly a turn-on. It wasn’t entirely a turn-off either, it was just…she wasn’t sure about it. It fell in that middle region of uncertainty, and she wasn’t particularly interested in finding out right now.

He blinked and stilled, backing off immediately. “Of course, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean…”

“It’s not you, I’m just…I’m not sure if I’m up for that. Yet.” She caught his arm and pulled him to her chest, feeling him stiffen with surprise before relaxing and practically melting into her, warm and comfortable skin-to-skin. 

Held close, she could feel how turned on he was, and he curled into her arms all the tighter. His smug smile was nearly unbearable against her skin as he leaned in to nuzzle at her neck again. “I’d ask what you think, but I think I’ve got a decent idea already.”

Her mind, now that it had finally cleared the haze of pleasure, was moving a million miles a minute. From somewhere, she gathered her strength and pushed with her leg, flipping them over and turning the tables on him. His breath whooshed out with the motion, and when he managed to get it back, he chuckled. “I’m not even going to apologize.”

“Neither am I, I’ve got some pretty convincing evidence that you liked it.” She ground up against him, feeling the press through his shorts. 

His groan proved her right, and he grabbed her hips to still her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“You know, I think I might.” Her hand caught the waistband of his briefs, and although he heard her ask, “This alright?” there was hardly any room for logical thought. He nodded, but all he could think was that he couldn’t last like this. “I’m curious what’s on your mind, what got you so worked up?”

He huffed a breath. “Not going to apologize for getting turned on. You’re hot.”

Her smile was pleased. His brain struggled to provide the phrase he was looking for, but it was something like ‘the cat that got the cream’ or something equally ridiculous. “So are you.”

She dragged his briefs down and he bit down on the noise that grew in his throat as she took him in hand, still talking.

“Sounds like we’re both pretty lucky. I know you wanted to ‘do things properly’ and all but,” her hands tightened around him and his thoughts went fuzzy around the edges, “I can’t help but think we’ve known each other long enough to skip the awkward fancy meal and nonsense.”

“I’m…” he broke off, voice strangled by his own body as he desperately tried to maintain control. “I’m not throwing that idea out so easily.”

Her hands slid down him, rapidly pushing him closer to the edge as she watched his reactions. She ran a hand through the wetness on his stomach and her hands slid down him more easily. The realization that the wetness had been there from the moment he ground up against her sent a jolt through him.

"You know you could get in my pants pretty easily, right?"

Her words and the thoughts they dragged to the front of his mind sent him flying over the edge, his hips bucking up as he spilled over her hands and his stomach. Somewhere amid the sensation, there might have been a semblance of a moan, but she moved and caught his mouth in hers, muffling it. 

In the haze after, he remembered her tossing some tissues to clean himself up, and passing him his briefs. She hunted about in the blankets, pulling her shirt over her head when she finally found it, and even through the exhaustion he registered that she was hunting for her clothes. “Would you stay?”

She planted a kiss on his forehead. “I have to be up early tomorrow, it’s Saturday.”

“Stay awhile? Whenever you need to leave is ok, I just…I’d like to hold you awhile.”

The woman was an angel. She had to be. It was the only possible explanation for the small smile that danced on her face as she curled up next to him and pulled the blankets up, letting him spoon her. She was warm and he curled against her back, tangling their legs together.

He couldn’t remember her flipping the light on his nightstand off.

* * *

He woke to his phone ringing. He glanced at the screen, bolting into wakefulness at the name.

“Hello?”

Nathalie sounded like she would kill him on the spot. “Where are you? I just got a call from the supervisor for your shoot this morning, why aren’t you there?”

He flung himself out of bed. “I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t go off! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

The next few minutes were chaos as he hunted down clean clothes and tried to do something with his hair. It wasn’t worth it anyway, they’d just re-do it on set. He went to pick up his keys from his desk and found a note tucked under them, scrawled in a thin, arching hand.

_Had to run, supposed to be up to help with things early and I can’t get caught –M_

He blinked and read it again. Of course it hadn’t been a dream.

The reality settled in and his heart swelled. It hadn’t been a dream. He was in love with Ladybug, who was actually Marinette, who was in love with him, and it was all real.

For the first time in a long time, he felt ready to start the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critiques are always appreciated, or corrections!
> 
> And once again, thanks for reading. I love you guys so freakin' much.


End file.
